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You had a kind of darkness that never needed to announce itself.
You were quiet, distant, and difficult to read. People could stand beside you for hours and still feel as though there was an entire world behind your eyes that they would never be allowed to enter. You didn't seem angry at the world. You simply seemed tired of expecting anything from it. Your silence became your armor. Your indifference became a language of its own. And somewhere along the way, you learned that feeling less could sometimes hurt less. Perhaps that was the strange tragedy of you. You didn't become cold because you had no feelings. You became cold because there had once been too many.
