After two hours of talking, my old friend looked at me and said, "I can't tell if you're happy. You seem happy, but I can't tell if you really are. You're grateful, but are you happy?"
Um, hell if I know.
I spun a very nice, intellectual answer, while I was trying to a) understand the answer to her question and b) keep her from looking too closely at it. It ended with, "I'm not content - but I'm content with that fact."
"You are so full of shit!" was the reply. And granted, this is something most of my friends know. But they don't always know when I'm spreading it around. And even among those who do, how many will tread there, behind my occasionally-obvious barriers, without my expressed prior consent?
That's a short list.
I need those people. It's not healthy, to get away with whatever self-deceptions I feel like peddling. That's the quick path back to not knowing which end is up when I look in the mirror.
So thanks, old friend, for still being on the short list. I owe you.
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