A friend is hurting. He doesn’t want to talk details (and I don’t want to know - I now wear an amulet inscribed “relationship mingling” encircled in red with a line drawn through it). The possible end of a romance, facing the fear and the “why?”, the loneliness and the hurt that sits in the bottom part of your stomach usually reserved for digestive juices.
How lucky to find and acknowledge the possibility of another. How brave to dive in not knowing how deep the water is at the other end, but lifting both feet from the platform anyway.
Me, I want to get hurt. Means the risk mattered.
The opposite of hurt is heal; it’s also happy. Can’t know how good chocolate tastes without eating some dirt. I hope he remembers once he swallows the mouthful he’s chewing, maybe choking on a little, that sweet will come. Again.
Because he's a good guy.