You and I don’t even need one. You’re a phone call/text away. Sadly, not closer. Here’s to growing up together and still being able to surprise each other with our reactions. I guess that is what happens when you grow up in almost parallel universes.
It’s strange, but I am still not averse to the idea of handing you a resignation letter. Not the badass sort, though.
“Sir, I resign to any decision made by both parties at this juncture. I am at the service of this company that has held my talent in great esteem for so long. But, I am afraid greener pastures await me…”
Yada, yada, yada.
We promised ourselves a very different present for ourselves in our past, in our naivete. You may call this a needless, almost tasteless flair for drama. I can almost feel you cringe as I turn around to walk away dramatically (only to turn around to see how you react). But, it all seems to be a really long drawn version of the joke about the tiger chasing the hunter chasing the tiger. IT’S CIRCULAR.
Even today, all I need is a smile. Say the word and this Alabama’s got it goin’ for your Clarence.
*enters self combust mode*
I can study to rap and you cannot stand it. You have a one track mind. I’m still trying to figure out how many tracks each thought of mine has. You’re organised. I’m organised chaos. You’re logical. I have been defying logic just by existing.
You’re weak. I’m weaker.
But, you know what we both are? Too young. Too far. Too close.