Our whole lives are relationships. Belly laughs — the ones you remember years afterwards when you’re driving down a quiet road by yourself or comparing your dim day to the shine of your past — those belly laughs only happen with friends. No one laughs that deep, long, and hard by themselves. That riot of joy takes relating.
The surest soothing of your despair… relationships. How your friend reframed your neuroses to show you that you’re not crazy, you’ve got survival instincts. How they pretend not to notice your inner ugliness — and heal you in the pretending. How they stay so steady with their gaze that the illusions you’ve been nursing dry up and float away.
Our whole lives are relationships. Emergency texting. Solutions that were designed just for you in the bowl of someone else’s heart. The 200 bucks before rent day that saved it all. Persistent love over years that one day melts you into your true self. Relationships.
Helping you pack up your life. On speed dial. Bottomless encouragement. There when you expected them to give up. Taller than your doubts. Seeing what you can’t. Protecting your tenderness. Big enough to fill your abyss. Rescued. Again.
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