Strangers

It's funny how you chose yourelf a flock. There are certain people you spend your life with, hour to hour, share dinner and gossips, and never ever doubt your choice until something really strikes the usual routine.
It's like we all are watching other people from the barricades of our own friends. We can't go to the other side and share a meal with someone else. All that left is just watching other people pass by to the flock of their own.
It's a constant passing by, all this life, we're watching each other, glaring, whispering words behind someone's back, accepting or disapproving someone else's behaviour, knowing, still, that they do the same to us. And we're all OK with that.

Little flocks, groups, couples devide our lives into such a chequered battle field. We're all strangers, everybody, but it's easier to live this world if you have some little cage of minds and bodies which provides you with a little illusion of security.

Me, Nadine, Anie, Zut - we all are being watched.
assessed. cheked out. spoken about. thought to be.
All by the people who crowd all around us.
It's not like "we" really exist.
It's just that I want to feel like I have something more than just strangers around me.
We do too, I suppose. We made a pact. Such an amasing agreement, no peacemaker in history could've thought about something that brilliant.
Under this storm of opinions we stare.
Here comes Angela. This is a part of her real name, let me use this here. She passes by, shaking her hips in her usual cat-like manner. It's kinda funny to watch her being so sweet all the way through other "strangers"...she smiles and flashes her eyelashes at guys, like a little baby doll, which looks so good with her a plump figure, blush and wide open eyes..
Yeah, it's kinda funny to watch her now, since I know she used to be Nadine's best friend for years.
It's not kinda fun which says "hey you now I'm with her and you're not"
you see, I never felt I actually WAS with Nadine.
It's just funny...how things turn out, you know?
They used to be two parts of one flock. Big parts.
And now they're this strangers who eye each other, focusing on every little detail, slowly drifting through time, noticing each other change more and more, till they feel that every little piece which once glued them together is gone. And as they do, you know, they're ...so strangers.
funny, isn't it?
probably not at all, but I have no other word to describe that weird feeling I always get when I see how weird this life is.

Wind is blowing, and I can't help but think who is the next to become a stranger?
It can be anybody's turn to leave this little fake shelter we've created.

I look at them and think "One day it will be me, eyeing you from the opposite corner. Maybe this day is tomorrow"