Explanations

I thought I would tell him this when he, and only he, could hear me. But the chance is gone and my powers as well. And my feelings, much of them, too. So why should I keep it a secret if I can spare - oh, how I love this word! - when I can spare myself, him and all of us from this dramatical end? So, let us begin.

I am one of them, therefore I own feelings and I do care about them. But I am one of them, however, and that does not change too much in your eyes. In your eyes I mirrored my pains, dreams and hopes, and my affection, I am sure. But in your eyes you never let me see anything important. Just feelings for one of them. Feelings for them all, sure.

My misery consists in my constantly changing for that one person. It's a pretty tough beginning for someone of my age, but it is a beginning, and much as I like to comment on others' feelings, I begin to feel that way, just as they feel.

Allrightie, I shall just skip and spare everyone - spare, again; sparing is a beautiful action, it is very fulfilling! - and I'll just answer your question.

'Are you of stone?', you asked me laughingly. This is the answer, but I cannot afford to hope that you will like it.

I am not of stone. I do not even contain a single piece of stone in any side of mine. I become scared or happy, but never of stone. I am not unfeeling and cruel, and not even close to being unloving. I have feelings, too - and I know you have heard this too many times to believe it; so I'll move on with this - and my feelings are perhaps just as they need to be.

But you asked me why I did not cry when the separation was approaching. This is the answer; I did not know that there would be a separation, you were the only one that knew. Was it disappointment in my not crying, was it regret that I saw in your eyes then? How could I know now?! You have been avoiding me; but I'll make sure you find all of the answers you need here.

Then I made the mistake that relieved me; I told you what a sane person would do if a separation was made. Back then, I knew of our soon good-bye. I told you what I had done, and not what a person would, but my own actions you were told, and you noticed that, so you kept asking and asking until I finally decided to reply. But I chose not to tell you directly, for I knew that that would have been the worst movement of mine. So I finally revealed my weakness and you said 'oh, that's ok, it just happens' and then you said you'd stay around, but did you? Did you reach me again to say something soothing as you had used to? No, as you know, you didn't move a bit, you didn't ask me how I was feeling, you did nothing, that's all.

But I can never blame you; we know that this guilt belongs to none of us, and that it is just natural; yes, whatever.

So why did I cry? Why did I not cry?

You had given me signs of anything I needed to be happy, and that is why I didn't cry that day. You know, the day when they all cried, but I didn't. And then I found the answer, from your lips it was, that you would move on; so I cried, in my strange stubbornness - I bet you would tell me now that my stubbornness is clearly natural and I cannot blame myself - keep your comforting words to yourself, I won't take your hand this time. It has been so long a time since I last took it, that I know now that its help will be pointless.

If we had remained the only people on earth, I would have been more than perfectly happy. I wouldn't have cared about anyone but you; and you left me, you left me and all of my hopes in the darkness you made me create.

But you are not to blame. No, dear, you are free from any accusation.

For the record, Mr Hope is you; and you are Mr Hope. How is that, huh?