Separate Roads

So, here we are again. We’re talking, that’s good. We’re occasionally laughing, that’s good too. Things almost seem back to normal. But than again, I feel it starting to repeat history once again. You talked to me and used me when you needed me once again. That’s okay, I’m not mad. I needed it as much as you did. I needed a friend for a little while, and it hurts less now that I’ve lived with knowing your game. You cry to me when you’re alone, you talk to me every day until you find someone else. That’s okay. Last year I would’ve been mad, but at this point I don’t really care. I’ve been through a lot, and so have you. I needed someone and you needed someone. She broke your heart, he broke mine. For a few good weeks we were friends again, now, we’re back to this. Not talking except a few words every few weeks, some friend, right? I’m back on my own, which is okay. I’ve learned that I need to stay on my feet; I can’t expect someone to lift me up whenever I fall. But, for the past few weeks that’s what we’ve been doing, isn’t it? We’ve been holding each other up because someone knocked us down. I thank you for that. Isn’t that what we do for each other? Isn’t that what we’ve always done for each other? It was nice to be your friend again while it lasted, but now you went along your way. We traveled the same road and separated at the fork. I guess I’ll be seeing you again when she breaks your heart, or he breaks mine. That’s when we’ll meet up on the road again, when the fork ends and comes back together into one road. Then I’ll hold you up and be your tissue, you’ll cry into me, and throw me away again as we travel to another fork in the road. You’ll find another friend, and then we’ll continue along, one big cycle for both of us. You’ll find me, or I’ll find you. Until the roads come together again, I guess our friendship will fall out of existence. Yet, you’re still my best friend.