So there we were. Cold night. Strange stare. Same deepness in his eyes. Maybe I was afraid of him saying something I already knew but I didn't want to face. He smelt it, and spoke:
-Why do you keep lying to yourself about what you want to do with your life?
-I mean, you know what you want to do.
-Maybe that's the problem. I don't really know. Or if I know, I don't wanna take that path.
-Why? Too much fucking whys don't you think?
-You gotta know.
-Maybe I'm afraid.
-Of who, or whom?
-This is hurting already, leave it alone.
-If it hurts, that's because you're facing a prominent issue.
-Oh, thanks Socrates! The fucking meaning of life and our purpose on Earth. Yeah, big deal huh?
You know how I am. Don't tease me. Give me time.
-You don't have time. You have a life to live. You're wasting it.
-Alrighty then. You got your point. But tonight it's not the time for this. Let me waste another Saturday. And by the way, what the fuck are you doing with your damn life?
- Ok, let's grab a beer somewhere, don't get angry dude, I'll pay.
What a pair of jerks. It's my fault really. I should beat him someday. But strangely enough, I think I love him. Maybe I should beat him harder then.