If I could label all my bestfriends. I might just right now.

The kind where when I vent, they would be on the same zigzag ride of emotion that I’m feeling, even though it may be extremely unreasonable. They would not just nod to it, they would play on it and stab on how vicious life could be. Or somewhere along those lines. They would laugh at my cynical ways and twist it and make it a cake. They would tell me their life story and level with me – not play who’s worse off. We would derail our conversation, into fairies and unicorns and come back to the pinch of nerve that I’m in. Telling the same story a million times around – rephrased with the same ending, will never faze them. They would listen   without the help of alcoholic beverages, and make a king out of your feelings. 

They would know your true fears, hatred, darkest memory. They are use to your habits, thoughts. They know your favourite lace, bedroom tramps, names that you’ll never write on birth certificates, and men you shouldn’t date. Sometimes, they might just slap you with the truth. Bugger that hurts.

Have you ever tasted perfume? 


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