I don’t know what I would do without you

As I blow up your phone for the zillionth time today.

I am feeling a bit self-conscious.

Like, is this what friendship is? Is this what my need looks like? My affection? Does this person at the other end of the line doing whatever they are up to today give a shit? Want it? And does she feel as if she can bring it over my way?

When she does, before or during or after, does she wonder if she too is too much to me and that she is stopping me in the middle of some other thing that I might be up to?

This seems impossible. I don’t believe it. I don’t believe this desperately attractive person I can’t believe looks so good at the middle of the ages of our lives, so wise and smart or fun could guess, second guess (thirdly as I do) if this is how it is to go now that we are no longer as young as we were when we learned how to have pals in the first place.

She is no idol. I am not so craven. I think this is what it looks like to be loved for who you are without a lot of versions of attempting that which would have tripped me up. Kept me from the naked collaboration which comes from the glow of the love of just this kind of pal — one who sees me and thinks whatever of me, but sure listens and laughs and shares and keeps coming…