Even though we don’t really understand it ourselves, there is a reason why we call our group ‘Schizos.’

Apart from the fact (Yes, fact.) that they’re mentally deranged (Yes, they.), through the years we’ve somehow managed to weather the ups and downs of our individual personality flaws.

19 years. That’s a pretty long time.

And as much as I consider myself an introverted hermit, I do need them. Like I needed them on this night to just hang out and laugh about random stupid shit that crossed our minds in the middle of our senseless conversations. Reminisce about the past and the boys we buried along in it.

Boys.

Not that it mattered (Okay, it stung a little bit then but I’m over it now. I promise.) but amongst my friends, I was never a hotshot. These girls had guys pining after them left and right. All I had were my 10 column accounting worksheets spread out before my confusion if it was really the profession I could see myself in the long run.

They were confused which one they should seriously date.

But that’s all water under the bridge now. Water that we like to laughingly reflect on once in a while on the off-chance that we get to meet up at all, considering our conflicting schedules and time zones.

It was one of those nights I wished would last a bit longer. But, you know, I had responsibilities at home too. Everyone did.

Adulting sucks.

Surprisingly, the cappuccino at Dessert Factory didn’t. With a hint of cinnamon, it was actually pretty nice. Different, but nice.

Freakin’ staff turned off their lights on us to kick us out.