I confide in you. You’re the first one that I tell about the medication. The only one who knows that I’m just as afraid of losing my edge as I am of being sick at all. You nod your head knowingly. When the moments are right, you use glimpses of your own depression to lean into mine, a support to keep me upright. And I want to tell you how much I appreciate it and appreciate you, but I can’t bring myself to talk over the full moon. I pray that the faraway stars will reflect my gratitude in the silence.
You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever walked into battle with before. You’re not afraid to flinch – you don’t put your ego before our safety. Of course you’ll fight for me, but not to be a knight in shining armor. You stick by me and help to fend off the demons because you recognize them. You know how this works. You’ve been where I am and you survived it. So thank God I have you because this isn’t a road anyone should walk alone.
Did you catch that? This isn’t something you ever need to do alone. Just between us, I’m certain there hasn’t been a better team come through here in a long while. This is about to become a new era for healing, an actual breakthrough in the broken saving the broken. Me and you are crazy enough about each other to do this. So let’s do this.
I believe in you. You tell me about your wants and dreams, let me in on your plans to escape town and reality. I get to watch your eyes light up even as we sit in complete and utter darkness, sharing beers and secrets and time. I remind you of how I look up to you, and my heart drops when try to brush it off. You don’t believe that you’re anything extraordinary. You try to tell me that no one would even miss you if you were gone and it takes everything I have in me not to scream at you. But that means there’s nothing left inside to keep the tears at bay and….I never meant to cry for you.
From the beginning, we’ve been a quiet sort of phenomenal. We keep the magic to ourselves because no one else seems to believe in it anyway. I think back to the first time I sought shelter in you, and I just remember the rain. Oh, how it poured down. And to this day, I’m not sure if it was a real storm or all in my head, but I do know that you didn’t hesitate to hold me. “I suppose you’re probably not afraid,” you said, “Rain isn’t anything new. But now at least this way I know you’re not alone.”