I was driving you back home after several hours of awkward conversations and then a state of muteness that almost felt endless. We arrived at your place, the big yellow house at the end of the street. No lights on. Perhaps your folks were sleeping or little did they know you were out for the entire night with a strange fishy guy? It’s so typical of you to hide things but I kept quiet until I heard the sound of my car door opening and you moved quickly toward the front door, without looking back or even whispering “Good night” in the most forced slightly polite way. Instantly I knew things have drastically changed. Well, I was the same until that night. You’re the one who shifted into a morbid soul, all out of the blue. You’ve changed and your change changed me, too. You were not only getting off of my car but of my life as well, and the moonlit sidewalk appeared to know how dreadfully empty my heart was feeling at that moment because the shadows dimmed even darker and I drove to my house with the most lonely tear blurring my eyes. I layed in my bed knowing that I’ve tried my best but the truth is: sometimes your best is not exactly what the person you love needs. And I was right. I cared too much and it went too far. Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel makes you blind.