Dating : Dissociation.

We stare through the cracks and the only things we can see are ourselves, well—who we were meant to be.

Anxiety creeps in on us like a horror story, We feel imbalanced when plagued by it.
We want to go down as the greats but we don’t want to grow up,
Burning bridges and envisioning how it’s like to fall of them.

Some days we feel better but on rainy days our eyes emulate this wretched weather, We want to run wild like animals but all we are really doing is act like immature inebriated infants.

One of us loves the other but we’re too afraid to show it, imagine friends falling for each other. It’s crazy. So we’re bottling it up and telling the waiter to fill our cups with more liquor because it’s better to hide your feelings than to be in them.

This ludicrously placed love thing can destroy the friendships we’ve so patiently built but every moment with someone else reminds me of the one I’m lacking with you.
This world is cruel.

When…If, we argue we’ll watch ourselves lose our composure and temper, We’ll say things we’d regret, Anxiety. This anxiety would tell us that we actually meant them when deep down we didn’t mean them not even in the slightest.

The winged rats watch us from the sky in disappointment, They wonder how it feels like to love one another and at the same time have the inability to admit it.

But what if the love is one-sided and not as deep as it seems, what if we’re at the surface of a friendship and not the deep of a relationship. What if we’re better as friends and being anything more or less causes an imbalance in our friendship, I still feel bad for every argument, every slip of tongue and every word said in anger because in all certainty the words we uttered felt as foul as they sounded.

Friends argue and make up as we did, but what we have going on is it unusual? The way the stars align and form hearts when we stare at them, The way the birds chirp when we pass them and finally the way I have all your favourite songs on repeat.

This world is beautiful and we have it at the grasp of our fist. But do real friends actually exist.

Or are they figments of not just our imaginations but of also our insecurities—We watch the rainfall because it reminds us—You, that someone can feel your pain too.