I hope for you this:
A friend. The Friend. She calls, and you immediately confess over the hundreds miles.
"I'm not okay."
"I thought so. That's why I called."
She listens, asks the most important and seemingly unrelated question:
"Have you grieved yet?"
And nothing else matters. Nothing matters but just that. Because of being heard. Because of being loved. Because of having the history for The Friend to know that this time, the problems aren't really the problem.
And it doesn't fix a darned thing. But it changes everything. It is everything. To be known.
Nothing is fixed, but everything is different.
I breathe deeply
And move on.
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