Siloed
Trying to reassure someone whose name you can’t remember. Trying to provide comfort, to "get through to" them, and falling over yourself. Trying to ease their suffering, and only compounding it further.
It all must feel so worthless in the end, so broken down, hollow and empty. Like you tried to stop a building from being condemned, and all you did was nudge around a few pieces of trash, maybe kick up some dust. Like you never could have fixed anything, and if you did anything at all, it was make it worse by trying.
It’s a strange thing to know in your heart that you ruined a friendship by trying to be a friend. It is strange to know it’s not even that strange.