Letters to my best friend...

i get that you think i deserve better than the broken man you are, but i don't want better (at least not today). i want everything that is you, now, and i want to, not heal you but help you see the version of you i see when i stare at you. i know i can't heal you, i can't fix you, thats something for you to do for yourself. But i can help you by presenting you with the mirror to help you see what i see of you. i hear you when you tell me you hate yourself, every part of who you were, who you've become, and who your afraid you may become if you don't correct your path. i hear it, in every breath you take, every motion of your body, every word you speak, i hear it. You tell me not condemn myself for my part of any of your past, but there are parts of your past i can't help but condemn myself for; and one of those parts are still unfolding. i know you are not perfect, O, but i don't need perfect. There may be better men out there for me, maybe even already in ...

 You rang kind of late last night, so i called back as we agreed, soon as I could. You vented at me about being angry with yourself for your mistakes, and wishing you could lay down that eternal Sleep. i wanted to wrap my arms around you, and embrace what i knew was your trembling body and lowered head. i mentioned hoping to see you today, and you told me off. "Don't come, I don't want to risk hurting you. I'm mad at myself and I know when I see you I'll vent, and I can't guarantee that I won't hurt you." I didn't agree to stay away, but went silent instead, suddenly indecisive. In the past i'd have ignored what you wanted and come to you anyway, but it usually doesn't go well when i do. But every part of me is screaming at me to go, that you need me, that i need you. i went to bed last night, half an hour early cause i was trying to sleep in the recliner and it was giving me no comfort, like it has in the last half year. i laid in bed for...