Streɪndʒə

I thought hard about things for a long time. Then I came to this realization. I can go always go back to where I first begun. Always.

If I can overlook you, not even remembering your face. Despite our few meets and the fact that the rest are pointing you out, I truly only notice your name because it has been said over and over again among the rest.

If I told myself that there would be no solid chance that we would hold a good conversation. I would not want to waste my time.

If I stereotyped you as typical like the rest of your bunch just by looking at the way you act and by what others told me (Unfair of me, I know). You were just another typical which is not at all, appealing.

If I told myself that first time we met that I would never initiate anything to make friends. Never. If you remember clearly, initiation was your part.

Yesterday someone pointed out, maybe its all a game. Maybe its all about ego and challenge. Then I thought:

If I did all that, what makes you think that I cannot possibly go back to where it all first began? I began with disgust at your typical attitude (which I am still convinced that you are). And, I began without the slightest interest. In fact, there was none. Nothing. At all. I could always go back. Always.

So, I did. Today, I looked straight into your soul, held that gaze and smile. A friendly gesture I give to strangers. Strangers. I quit playing games a long, long time ago and I would not I want to be involved in any. I am always usually truly sincere until someone takes thing for granted and put it all simply as a game.

Stranger (Oxford Dictionary)

• a person whom one does not know or with whom one is not familiar

Therefore, a stranger. That is what you were to me and will be to me from now on and strangers we shall remain.