Over the years and through the woods

I'm not always real, there are still habits, remnants of the past, crammed in me, an old friend called me, someone i know for fifteen years now, a guy i tagged along when i was a psycho, we were the two cripples in college, we needed to get together against the others, the bullies and the ignorants, simply the stupidly wicked, that was our bond, but now, nowadays, i evolved, i am, i don't need a sidekick to stand up, i'm finding directions to explore, he on the other side followed a stiff road, the paved alley of conformity, and i wonder if that was his choice, did he really choose his wife or was it the shadow of loneliness who pushed him to get married, did he choose his job or was it the lack of intellectual aptitudes who notched him in that debilitating work without any opportunities of improvement, did he choose his holidays as a destination he really wants to go or simply because it's the common sunny islands the most displayed in the travel magazines, and so on, did he choose his appartment, did he choose his corny hobbies, is it all a matter of brain capabilities, anyway i don't need him anymore, we are too much different, as a lot of the people i know for too long, i want to believe i choose my way, the one on which i'll touch the highest bliss i'm able to feel, so when those guys call, i should stop lying, and tell them i don't feel satisfied spending time with them.