I am angry. Perturbed. Confused. Disturbed. It throws me to utter bewilderment at how frivolous some may view emotional connections. When a friend comes across as one with genuine feelings, but turns to be quite contrary. Why a friend blatantly tries to hurt. Why a friend becomes someone you don't recognize. You stretch ur hand to feel. To hold the friend close again, but what you grasp is thin air. Why is that so? I simply cant comprehend. Tell me are you just a another mirage in a desert. Beckoning me to come quench my thirst, then you simply just evaporate? Just when I have a vibe of deep friendship blossoming, you leave. How can you bear to? So you say that I look very distant cold. Can you get over the appearance? I'm sorry if I give you the impression that I don't treasure you as a friend. Fact is I really do, i really do. I'm sorry if I cant open my heart fast enough to you. Its really hard, hope you know. But don't you know..easy come easy go? Whatever. Don't expect you to feel what I'm feeling. Emotions are locked inside every individual. Perhaps sentenced to an imprisonment deep within the dungeons. Therein lives a lonely cell mate that is perhaps resisting the virtual imprisonment, yet wary of the unfamiliarity of life outside the dungeon. Now, the cell mate is pounding fiercely against the metal gates, in futile attempts to try to break the very shackles that it is shackling itself down. Shaking it ever so violently, it hurts with a potent sting. You were like my fellow cellmate. I heard you through the dreary cell walls. ( I swear I did). You were a friend, a support. It seemed a very good idea to escape and see you face to face without the physical boundaries. Afterall the heart has met, it has opened. The drapes of the dark dungeon are drawn notwithstanding the presence of our individual cell walls. (I see a familiar soul). The cell mate is happy and smiles. But behold. Where is the friend? What a plan of fiendish complexity! To lure the heart out and rob it of its emotions? How could you? Perhaps the cellmate was construing an image all by himself. Because of the cell walls, he is now unsure if the very same laughter conversations that resonated along the lonely cell walls were just his construed-virtual-reality. Perhaps those were that of himself responding to his echo. (Irregardless of how warped it sounds) So now..what is this? The cell mate shuffles his feet back to his cell. This time sticking close to the deepest end of the cell, all this with his hands firmly planted along the cell walls. The cell mate grasps the keys to his cell and tosses it nonchalantly out of the small window to a place called The Outside World. Behold. In this dreary dungeon there are no sight of any prison warrants. In each cell mate's hand is the very set of keys to their own little cell. The virtual cell mate wakes up to reality. He knows the sole imprisonment of his soul is unwarranted. Nevertheless, The Outside World is where he has to live a life, alive. No time for melancholic thoughts, where there is all-smiles. A question..how can you trust the plastered smile, when you cannot even judge if the heart that gives the smile is genuine for that matter...so much for the facades.. please tell me when to trust my gut.