Big my secret.

Quiet. Nothing moves. A vacuum of time and place. Reading what Emily wrote lately. I have never met her. And yet she is close, closer than many of my real life friends. Being hurt and never wanting to talk about it. Me, so me. Whenever I felt hurt, I turned to writing. I wrote it all out and with every word, every sentence I felt lighter and lighter. What I couldn’t tell to anyone I had to write to everyone. It felt as if the words would carry me away. Emily, while your friend Richard faces the most horrible time of his life, you are there. Your words are there. You exist. And that’s all a human being can ask for in challenges beyond our imagination: a friend.

I believe.