The difference between now and before

(that is, before we were ever friends.)

over the course of twenty years, i'd completely forgotten what it felt like to actually want to live for my own sake. that's how long it had been. i'm talking about more than the mere the hope that things might get to where i'd want to again. actually, that hadn't been there either. but an actual consistent source of joy based on real experiences i could count on had been largely absent, except for brief exceptions to which i desperately clung like a lifeline in a raging storm. 

then, for a brief time . . . well, i find that i can't describe the sublime joy that i found in being your friend. you enjoyed my company and i enjoyed yours. and there was never a desire for an inappropriate physical or even emotional connection. it was just the pleasure of your friendship. i realize now that that ended for you long before it did for me. i'm sorry, first because i ruined it, and secondly because i was too fucking obtuse to notice.

so now that we aren't friends at all (basically, i have to conclude this, based on your last communique and your silence thereafter), i'm back where i used to be. there has been incremental improvement, but mostly my life is back to the status quo. the difference between now and before is that now i remember how very nice it felt to to be glad to be alive, and i am always sad about it.

(it probably doesn't help matters that i'm always physically exhausted now, too.)

wait, though: don't i have plenty of people whose company i enjoy?

yeah, i do.

but ask me how many of them accept me for who i am. 

and, it turns out, neither do you.