Opposite of Heartbroken
Here’s to the friends who love us. And the us who loves them back.
Sometimes life happens in snapshots:
My hands are shaky and my eyes are wet after a female colleague threatens me privately at work. I tell myself this is normal, or sinister, or something that just happens in the workplace. I call Brittany, who reminds me I am safe. We choose who we let in. It’s midnight where she is, but she chooses to make time for me.
Over dinner with Giovanni, I tell him about the things that weigh me down. He listens. We scheme. We laugh. I snort. The right people for you will bring out the fullest expression of you. He asks me what I would do if I could do anything except acquire alpacas, llamas, or islands. I say what do you mean; what’s life without llamas?
I followed Zara’s work for six years before we met six months ago. I used to listen to her podcast like a religious devotee. We just launched a new interview series together. Hang around your heroes. Because of Zara, I believe learning how to ask great questions is the closest we humans will come to cultivating superpowers.
Markus insists I stay over when I’m too tired to drive home. Instead of letting me wallow alone, he turns off the lights and by 10:30pm I’m out cold as Christmas Day. It’s the best sleep I get in weeks. People show care in their own ways, I think as I hear him getting ready and making breakfast the next morning.
Maybe all those times when I thought people — parents, friends, concerned others, benevolent strangers — were making life more difficult weren’t actually being difficult at all: Comb your hair. Wear the nice dress. Go outside. Give it your best.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
So I comb my hair, I wear the nice dress, I go outside, I give it my best.
Here’s to the friends who love us. And the us who loves them back.