In this storm, in this wind that howls, you are the gentle centre. And so I come to rest at your side. I see the watchers that disapprove and the judgement they feel so entitled to. I wonder what they would have me do? Lift the world in one arm? Push back the tide with only my mind? Because what they expect is equally impossible. Every person needs a harbour, a secure attachment of love - for without one we are in such pain, so lost, shutting down. Then life becomes a torture we are expected to endure, surviving, not living. Were it not for you, my good friend, there would be no relief, no emotional morphine. You are my hero and my heroin. Of course I am addicted to you - but for every reason that is pure and right. You are safety and love, an anchor I hold onto, that I tether myself to because I want to. So for those watchers who have plenty, who have never felt the brutal sting of abuse, the kind that shatters all emotional bonds, take your opinions and bury them in tar. For "freedom" to make all new friends and family is just another abuse, it is akin to the freedom to wonder a desert with no water. It is a sentence of pain - loneliness is pain. "Tough love" is abuse.
My friend, you never did that, always giving warmth, consistent love and patience. That is why I love you so, why my nature trusted you before my mind could too. In time I will heal because affection is real help. You are irreverent, funny, real as hell and perfect with your idiosyncrasies. I am bound and free, flying and grounded, laughing and sober. Perhaps it is you that performs the miracles.