One coin, two sides.
We were the same girl
We were the same fourteen-year-old
We went through the same thing
Ended up in a different world
I will never figure out how we were just the same coin on different sides being tossed up in the air but fell on a whole different palm.
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I will never figure out the same thing that you went through as me; whilst it scarred my whole existence, you didn’t have a single scratch.
Or maybe I should’ve known better.
I should’ve known better the second we sat on the same chair, but our legs crossed differently.
I should’ve known better when we were in the same room, but you’re able to laugh as easily as breathing while I’m trying to reach the surface for air.
I should’ve known better when my eyes were covered with my never-ending perception while yours was clear as a day.
The never-ending ifs haunt my mundane lives. Hanging by the world’s thinnest thread is my hope. Somehow, if I could ask you everything without the fear of being seen as burdensome, perhaps I would figure everything out; maybe I would end up in your world; possibly I would not have this never-ending gut feeling that I have to throw out every once in a while.
Perhaps.
