Just people

Friends don't exist. What you thought was real, was actually just an adjective you bestowed some person in some insane moment of your life. And when it is over, you get angry with the person. But it's hardly their fault, they never called themselves 'friend' until you did. And some didn't even after.

Who you are angry with is just yourself. For allowing yourself to trust someone with some part of you that was important. Because you believed that for you, just for you, this thing would last... until death that is. 

And then you realize it was never the same for the other person. They always lived life knowing the practical - that things change, nothing's permanent; and they treat you that way. Casual. Superficial. Kind. Understanding. 

You could be anyone else on the street. You don't matter. 

There's no such thing called friends. Only normal, practical people.