Summer

We spoke of change with such sentimentality, disguising the quiet tone of resignation neither of us was brave enough to bring up. It was a waiting game that would prompt many to whisper "I told you so" as the curtain fell, presumably signifying the end of an act that should have concluded a long time ago. Your eagerness to prove yourself in a world full of grey shades was charming, and for a while it seemed like you would maintain resistance to being casted into a mold that many before you had succumbed to. But alas, you were not the great sculptor that you modelled yourself to be, and over time the pressure straining on the cracks in the gold membrane of your pièce de résistance triumphed, and in a grand masterstroke your work of being crumbled hastily into what it always was, what you tried your best to conceal —cheap plaster.