the reason

I’ve written about PK before. That she is my best friend. That I’ve known her the longest of any friends. That her wedding caused me panic attacks. And that she doesn’t read my blog.

She is a simple friend. Simple in how she befriends, how she listens, how she advises, and how she loves, distantly. Every time I leave her I am bettered. Time with her is healing. Somehow she calms me. Somehow she gives me a bit of peace. It isn’t anything she says. It isn’t anything she does. It’s just her.

Writing this, I am tearing thinking about what I am about to say. PK is the reason that I know I am worthy of love. PK is reason I know that somewhere out there, there is love for me that is great and good and healing and calm. Somehow, PK gives me the hope and feeling that love does not have to elude me.

Trust is something I don’t give out easily. Love is something I don’t receive well. PK has my trust and I think I let her love, a little bit anyway. I know she won’t read this, even though I’ve told her to. But, she should know that she is the reason that I may one day let someone truly love me. I know at least that she does. And I thank her.