Do you ever take a minute to think about the people in this world who really know you and see you and think about how freaking amazing it is that they exist?
I’m speaking in the most basic terms.
Someone I hadn’t talked to in two years asked me how my grandmother is doing today, and he used her name. It felt so intimate and correct and I remembered a time when I was so emotionally attached to him and he was chasing me up a stairwell in a hotel in Augusta, Georgia. It must’ve been three AM and he was running after me; the heat was off so we were puffing like smokestacks as we climbed, and when we reached the roof we just lied in the middle of the empty hallway for hours on our backs. We talked about what we wanted, but mostly we were just being people together for a while. Being two people who wanted to feel the same things and bear witness to each other with the crazy, wide-eyed fascination that can only come with adolescence.
We all live choppy lives, they’re packed full of abbreviations and fragmented sentences, but it just occurred to me how many human-beings I know on this planet who would clear a couple hours tonight to shoot the shit with me if I called them out of the blue — and how many people I’d do the same for — and it felt like such an immense thing. Such a huge brick sliding into place.
All I can do — all I really know how to do — is give love and make light. Everything else is secondary.
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