Thursday, October 18, 2007

confidante [kon-fi-dahnt]
a woman to whom secrets are confided or with whom private matters and problems are discussed; woman character in a drama or fiction, such as a trusted friend or servant, who serves as a device for revealing the inner thoughts or intentions of a main character
Synonyms include: advisor, bosom buddy, companion

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." Though stupidity is relative (though not too relative as Forrest Gump reminds us, "stupid is as stupid does"), friendship remains to be a blessing; a savior when foolishness seems to surround you like a dark, unforgiving aura.

People keep asking me this week how I'm doing. I'd almost forgotten how terrible I felt the two weeks before this one came around; how often I avoided human contact (in all forms) because I knew speaking about everything that was bothering me only made me want to cry that much more. I think the reason why this low point felt like the lowest I've ever felt, is because I know I brought myself down here, I did this, it's my fault. Maybe I wanted to punish myself or maybe I just needed a moment to accept responsibility for something I didn't want to.

No one is responsible for my circumstances except me. I want to engrave that into my psyche, push my face down on it and taunt myself into a hard lesson learned. But along always comes an angel to drive away the inner bullies, help me up to stand, dust me off, fill my gas tank, treat me to dinner, go with me to see a random movie, email me at work all day, chat with me until 2 am on a worknight, ask me if I'm okay, text me to say it'll be okay, invite me over for some no frills bonding time, hug me like they hadn't seen me in years, remind me of what I'm capable of, tell me I deserve good things. Being independent is a great thing, but allowing yourself to depend on the angels you have here on earth is an even greater feeling.

I've been saved...again....

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