"You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,
And how, how rare and strange it is, to find
In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,
[For indeed I do not love it . . . you knew? you are not blind!
How keen you are!]
To find a friend who has these qualities,
Who has, and gives
Those qualities upon which friendship lives.
How much it means that I say this to you–
Without these friendships–life, what cauchemar!" -Portrait of a Lady, TS Eliot

Hurray for colds.

I love TS Eliot, and that quote, and that poem.

Why? Why can’t I help? Why won’t you call me back?

I miss the unquestionability of childhood friendship. I miss Jen. I miss knowing that I have someone who will drop everything and get their ass over here if something bad happens. I miss not having to talk to know what’s going on with the other person. I miss laughing so hard that I cry. I miss the telepathic connection. I miss having someone who will hug me, stroke my hair, let me cry, and tell me that it’s ok and know that they’re not freaked out that I’m upset. I miss acceptance.

I hate being pulled back in and then pushed away again, for no reason. I hate falling for fake friendship. I hate wondering about motives, not being able to truly trust. I hate being made fun of. I hate shit talking, I hate gossip. I hate feeling betrayed. I hate feeling like people should know me, when they really don’t. I hate that some of my girls live so far away.

I love history that makes friends like family. I love the instant connection I get when I talk to someone who really knows me and I don’t have to explain anything. I love family that become friends. I love preplanning girls’ nights and future girls’ trips.