"Sartre claims that Hell is other people. I do want to admit that others can sometimes render life unbearable for us, but they can also be our companions of Paradise. For me, Hell is the void, a place without friends, without music, without words which stimulate imaginations, without beauty to exalt the senses..."

The quote above is taken from the fourth tome of Blacksad, "A Silent Hell".
I'm uneasy to write this journal... but In a fashion, it sums a lot how I've felt a lot in the last two month.

Back in early February, events have led to what now feels like the loss of respect and friendship of someone I once held in high esteem. . Ever since, we have yet to speak together again in non-public setting, at their request. It does, however, still eats at me.
I wish I had been able to better read their silences. Better interpret their stress. I also wish I had a better handle of my own stress than I had. That I would have been better able to be the friend who can support others rather than become a burden to them.
But I didn't, and and the past cannot be changed.

Much like it cannot change how I feel hurt and confused sometimes. Asking myself how it reached this wall of silence where I do not know what they think anymore of me except that it cannot be good. I kind of wish things hadn't turned out this way, that I hadn't lost their respects... but I know it was probably only my fault despite what some close friends would try to tell to me. It was a person I once trusted a lot, that made me feel like I was actually of some worth to someone else rather than an outsider. But I squandered this respect, and lost the trust they still had in me. It's very hard not to linger on this at times, about how I'd wish things where different. About how I'd wish to be able to talk with them again, like we once used to. The conversations about art we sometimes had, the small jokes or just the friendly terms we sometimes used for each others.

I miss it and it hurts to think back on it sometimes. And not knowing what they now think of me on their end, and the uncertainty it entails sometimes just hurt even more.