It’s so hard to meet yourself in your own pain and hold yourself in its presence. It is an obnoxious friend who will never let you forget that you loved. And I think that's okay. I never want to get over what it was like to sit across from God on the bus and watch Her blow out Her candles for Her birthday; eat beside Celeste at dinner and listen to her talk about how dry the macaroni is. Language will never explain how it feels to be known, to be entirely accepted, even when you're in disagreement, even when you're pissed. I am so afraid of knowing what my Deepest Self feels about these people and the life that we gave one another.
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