This place is terrifying and I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing and some days I don’t even think I know who I am and somehow the more I learn the less I understand and the more people I’m surrounded by the more alone I am and it feels like I’m standing still while everyone is running and it feels like everyone was handed a pair of glasses and I was handed a blindfold and I go to bed tired and I wake up tired and I’m hungry but I don’t feel like eating and the drugs just make it worse and it feels like I’m always waiting for something and nothing ever happens while I never have time to do anything and I’m always too busy and nothing feels right and nothing sounds right and somehow I can’t even trust myself

and then I catch you staring at me, and then because nothing is ever right and everything sucks and no one is ever good I yell at you and I say, “What?!” and then you look a little sad, and you touch my hand, and you say to me, “Nothing. I just love you.”

and then everything is okay again.

I keep forgetting that everyone is going through something. That everyone has battles and secrets and scars and fears. I keep forgetting that we all go home to something. That we all wake up somewhere. That we all have a life and experiences that aren’t written on our faces. I keep forgetting to show compassion and love and kindness to everyone, because even those who are aren’t easy to love could tell me things that would bring me to tears, and things that would bring me great joy. I keep forgetting that we are all just humans doing the best we can to get to where we want to be, and not one of us can be perfect. Today a young man reminded me to practice acceptance and understanding. Today I was humbled. Today I was reminded that though most days we are brave, some days are weak, timid and ashamed. I have some love to spread tomorrow.

“I’m looking for someone to help me make a mess of the kitchen that we don’t clean up for days and to yell at for not doing anything wrong when I just need to go off on someone. I don’t need someone to tell me I’m crazy for obsessively rearranging the furniture every month. I don’t need someone to hold me at night or fix the leaky faucet. I don’t need to be taken care of, I don’t want to be taken care of. I’m looking for a business partner, a wall to bounce ideas off of, and a strong pair of hands to help me move the couch to the other side of the room so I can decide I liked it better where it was originally. I want a friend I can talk to. Someone to laugh at me when I trip over myself and fall on my ass, and maybe, just once or twice, to help me up off the ground. I don’t need roses or diamonds or any romantic shit. I just need to die knowing one person in the entire world knew all of my flaws and all of my secrets and loved me anyway.”

I wrote that two years ago.

Our best conversations begin with, “Okay, truth time,” and “Can I run an idea by you?”. He teaches me things about space and light and earth and life. I take it out on him when I’m frustrated, sad, and scared, and he takes it all and knows that all I need is a good laugh and little time. He confides in me. He listens to me. He asks me about myself, and better yet, remembers my answers. Every day I learn something new about him, and every day, I like him more. Our frailties, our imperfections, and abnormalities, our quarks, we’re learning them all - and we’re not just able to look past them, but we’re embracing them, talking about them, loving them. I’m learning things about the world that I didn’t know were out there, and things about myself that I didn’t know were in there.

He’s my other half. He’s my colleague. He’s my side-kick. He’s my best friend. He’s my everything. All I can hope for is to somehow be to him what he is to me.

Living proof that love exists, and that hard work is the secret to great success.

I hate to think it’s experiencing some unrequited love.

I’m looking for someone to help me make a mess of the kitchen that we don’t clean up for days and to yell at for not doing anything wrong when I just need to go off on someone. I don’t need someone to tell me I’m crazy for obsessively rearranging the furniture every month. I don’t need someone to hold me at night or fix the leaky faucet. I don’t need to be taken care of, I don’t want to be taken care of. I’m looking for a business partner, a wall to bounce ideas off of, and a strong pair of hands to help me move the couch to the other side of the room so I can decide I liked it better where it was originally. I want a friend I can talk to. Someone to laugh at me when I trip over myself and fall on my ass, and maybe, just once or twice, to help me up off the ground. I don’t need roses or diamonds or any romantic shit. I just need to die knowing one person in the entire world knew all of my flaws and all of my secrets and loved me anyway.