back when we were kids

back when we were kids,

life was nothing but light, pavement, and laughter.

longboards gliding down the trails,

basketballs echoing through the evening air,

music spilling out of those old ‘90s retro speakers

we’d find in our parents’ basements —

static, bass, and freedom.

no phones glued to our hands,

no pressure to post —

just company.

just presence.

the world was wide open,

and the only rule was,

“come home before it gets dark.”

we never cared.

we always pushed it —

one more ride, one more laugh,

one more stretch of freedom before the world called us back.

me and manvir —

two kids who thought forever was real.

we’d cross that broken bridge

just to reach the other neighborhood,

gripping the guardrails like our lives depended on it,

pretending it was life or death —

and in a way, it was.

’cause that’s what being a kid felt like:

every small thing was everything.

we didn’t know what healing was,

didn’t need to.

life hadn’t scarred us yet.

we lived like every day was a movie

we didn’t have to film.

and when things got dark later,

when silence felt heavy and home wasn’t safe,

he was there.

no deep talks, no therapy words,

just energy —

the kind that says “i got you” without saying a thing.

we didn’t need to explain pain;

we just played through it,

rode through it,

laughed through it.

those were the days

when friendship wasn’t fragile,

when loyalty wasn’t performative,

and love didn’t need a definition.

we didn’t chase meaning —

we were the meaning.

present, loud, unfiltered,

hearts too full to care who was watching.

the world’s louder now —

people scroll more than they see,

chase more than they feel.

but on quiet nights,

when the noise fades,

i still hear the wheels on the pavement,

the creak of the bridge,

the laughter that made everything feel light again.

all the memories and moments live inside me.

and what makes it beautiful is — they still breathe.

when life gets heavy, when our hearts ache,

we still walk, we still ride, we still put on music and let silence do the talking.

we don’t fix each other — we just show up, the way we always did.

time changed everything around us, but not the thread between us.

we still carry that same light, just through wiser eyes.

and i remember —

life was never about getting somewhere.

it was about that.

the feeling of being seen

before we even knew what we were worth.

so this one’s for you, bro —

for the nights we rode until the stars blurred,

for every song that still takes me home,

for the version of us that never had to heal,

because we were already whole.

and as the tears fall while i write this,

i know —

this love has been engraved in my heart forever.

we made it,

even when it didn’t feel like it.

and if the light ever feels too far,

i’ll play our old songs

and meet you where time stands still —

back when we were kids.

— Mr. Mak