Aida Zabidi
I worry sometimes that you are too thin, too gaunt - and one day you will succumb to that strange lethargy that has haunted you for too long. 

I see how you've changed in the past year, seen the wariness in your eyes and the forced quality of your smile as you seem to fade away right in front of my eyes. I know there is nothing I can say that will make you open up to me, but I know that something is not quite right - it's there in your eyes, clear as day - but until you are ready to say what you want to say, I can only be here by your side - hoping for the day that you will stretch out your hand and realise that mine has been there all along.

Your silence weighs upon us all, and only you hold the key to our release, trapped as we are in this cage built out of those unspoken thoughts. We tiptoe around you, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. We are trapped in our ineffectuality, knowing that we cannot help.

I fear for the day that your fragile hold on reality will snap, and you will drift away in that ocean of nothingness.

As for now, we can only pray.

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