whirlpooled topics unbackspaced. streams of consciousness. blurts. scribbled notes. outlined ideas. velocity waves. snatches from icloud. because self-editing is a writer’s cowardly way of preventing a reader from fucking the writer's confidence. dates don't matter. memories and moments aren't chronologically marked on the soul.


I woke up from my nap (I’m old people) and I looked over to my phone and saw my friend had texted me. He’s the friend who never forgets. Every important moment, there he is. And I rolled over and thanked my God for putting my friend in my life. 

I think of my friends as little love nutrients for my immortal soul. 

So. Thank you. Thank you for reminding me that true love is not only supportive - it feeds my heart - it guards my soul against the sin of despair - and it educates my remembrances. 

I am a better man because our friendships urged my growth.