to Ali and others

I wrote in a journal for the first time in months. I wrote not for anyone else, but for me. I wrote as if no one would read it. It started off like a puppy on a hardwood floor. Then it looked like a hamster in a wheel. Then it looked like a religion textbook -- as if mentioning God means we don't need his help. But then it ended. And it ended like a horse finally in the gate. Now it's ready to run. The horse is focused and now it's ready to run. It was a mess of a start, but here's how it ends:

"Now is time for friendships that don't go away. Now is time for friends who say they're glad to see you even when they're tired; because they know you need to hear it now, in case they forget next time. Because they know, and they want you to know, there will be a next time. This isn't contingent on you anymore. This isn't worried about being afraid of being clingy anymore. This doesn't care how tired you were last night. This doesn't mind when you cry because so-and-so did such-and-such. And this doesn't forget, even after a year. It hugs like cashmere, and calls when it is lonely, because it knows -- the hug told it -- this friendship knows it's safe all the time, and that being lonely and saying so isn't the same as being clingy. Because everyone is needy."

"I can think of friends I didn't think of before. The void isn't the only option. Real people will listen. And for the friends not ready to pick up gems and hold them to the light -- those not ready to bear with imperfections -- give them time. Because the friends that can hug even when they are tired used to be people you were afraid to tell."