Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.
Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty.
Friends don’t spy; true friendship is about privacy, too.
I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12 - Jesus, did you?
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