00:46
I have wonderful friends.
My little unit of people had been struggling. Not in the sense that we’re failing; paralysed against the current of the city; more that we’ve all been going through things that make us human: break ups, moving, new jobs, the possibility of starting a new life elsewhere.
And yet still, every Friday, we meet, we eat and drink, we talk about sex toys and men, periods and friends, the world crumbling apart around us while we giggle about bloating, future holidays and that really gorgeous mesh top you wore last week.
I don’t think I realised what love and support looked like until I met you. I wouldn’t be who I am without you: boundaries and bliss.
Worthwhile to note it wasn’t always this way; we flow and ebb like the current of the Thames and yet here we are, four years later, drinking red (always); eating Camembert or sushi with a dog in tow (or two, if we’re lucky); boyfriends and girlfriends and partners new, old, rekindled, never once blinking through the hardness, like stone, that comes and goes with the needs and wants of a life well lived.
My little unit of people have been struggling. But we’re what we made of us. And we can do anything.
