i ended up calling in the middle of the night. try as had for several hours to contain myself, i reached my bursting point and ended up dialing your number. of course, even though i should have been asleep, i knew you wouldn't be. you'd be up working. our schedules were always different that way.
"tell me a funny story" i shot out of the gate, which took you aback because we both knew that behind it was the loaded, but unsaid, "i want you, i need you, you're the only one who can be that person for me right now."
you listen is the truth of it. you've always listened when i really really needed it, at other times not, but you have an impeccable measure of when it needs to be done. and all this despite your own self, whether you feel like listening or not, whether you can handle it at the time. i'm emotionally selfish.
for some reason i hesitate initially, as though you're not going to pick up on it, though i know you are, i need to hear your ok first. given permission, my speech is like a river going over the falls, tumbling over rocks, rapidly hurdling toward instinctive conclusion without regard to what is in the way. i can't quite put it into words, i secretly wish i could show you, so that you're in on it too. and as much as i am there talking, i am in my head as well, and as a result everything is jumbled up as a puzzle. but you're quicker than that, you pick up the pieces, and do all of the right things: genuinely and strongly offer your help, empathize with me, then finally hit me with the truth, that which i haven't even processed in my own mind yet.
i can come up for air.
i contentedly listen to what you have to share, genuinely interested, no longer being distracted by the pangs of my own self. of course, you don't launch into anything as deeply as i do, and after a while we wish each other well and say goodnight.
pretending it's just another normal conversation between two normal people on a normal wednesday night.
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