falling into place

This morning, this flower was closed.  Like a bud.  Amazing what a few hours can do.

I had a great weekend.  Last night, I got to see an old high school friend who I haven't seen in a few years.  I met up with her at Malibu Wines, and it was just nice to hang out, relax and catch up.  Our lives have gone on two completely different paths, but that's the special thing about friendship - it doesn't matter.  Once you share that bond, you'll always have it.  And talking to old friends always humbles me.  Gives me back the perspective that I, sometimes, lose.

I was reminded: Everything happens for a reason.  Life is not so bad, not at all.  Enjoy it!

And I will.  As much as I can.  I will.

Now, on a somewhat different note, I've been thinking a lot about this blog and what direction I want to take it.  What role it plays in my life.  I'm not quite sure right now, but I've decided that no matter what, I'll keep writing until I figure it out.  Things eventually fall into place.  The place that they should be.  So, let's see where this takes me.

memory lane

One of my oldest friend from junior high celebrated her twins' birthday party at the park up the street from where I lived during high school.  It was the park I spent many afternoons when I just wanted to be away from the house.  When I wanted to think and well, not think.  So, when I drove through the familiar streets for the first time again after many, many, many years, I couldn't help but be pulled back in time.  It was as if I had been away for so long and I was coming back to a small town I had wanted so much to get away from.  I thought, I guess, this is how it feels to come back to a place you grew up in after being away for a long time ... nice.

When I first moved to Burbank, it was like the town of Mayberry from the Andy Griffith Show.  And I hated it.  It was before it had a mall, Starbucks, and IKEA.  I can't recall if the movie theater was even there.  I think it had just opened or they had just built it.  I know it's different now.  Much more commercialized and modern.  But, funny thing is, now that I'm an adult, I miss old Mayberry Burbank.

They've added a much more elaborate play area, but looks like they kept the old swing I used to sit on for hours.

My friend's adorable twins.  And their adorable guests.  But, big brother doesn't look too happy.

Pink balloons always make me happy.

High school friends.

The baseball field that always gave me a sense of peace and clarity.

twenty seconds.

Sunset in Idyllwild.

There's something I've been wanting to do.  For a long, long time. 

And you know what?  I'm finally doing it. 

I got my twenty seconds of insane courage.  :)


p.s. This is to my childhood best friend "Jude."  He's the Charlie and Sam of my life.  (Clue: Read Perks of Being a Wallflower.) 

He used to always sing this song to me:

Thank you, Jude.  I'll love you always.  - Your twin from another star, your eternal soul mate.

On letting go.

I can't believe that the Glee season finale made me cry.  But it did just that.  As Finn let Rachel go, I cried along with her. 

I'm such a sap.

But I know how young loves can be.  And it sucks sometimes because we want it to work, so much, but even our young minds know that sometimes, we must let go. 

When I was eight years old, I met the boy I thought I would one day marry.  (Remember the boy I refer to as Jude because of his favorite Beatles song?)  Well, I thought I was going to marry Jude.  Don't worry, I didn't think I was going to marry him at eight years old.  It took a few years before I thought of him and marriage.  Actually, it was in the fifth grade, when he introduced me to his dad as the girl he was going to someday marry.  I know, I know, so Sweet Home Alabama.

But our ending was different.  We never got married.  We never even dated.  But in the fifth and sixth grade, we were best friends.  And we remained friends throughout junior high and high school.  Until the end of my junior year when he told me that we couldn't be friends anymore.

You see, I told him I wanted to help him get his life back on track, go back to school, stop hanging out with gangs and doing drugs.  By that time, Jude was homeless, just going from one (bad) friend's house to another.  (I didn't really approve of his so-called friends who only got him in even more trouble.)  I wanted my mom to take him in and have him live with us.  I wanted to take care of him. 

But he said no. 

Then, he made a promise - that he would not speak or contact me until he was back in school and his life was in order.  Out of trouble.  So that he wouldn't bring any trouble to me. 

I cried.  And cried. 

But, even during his most troubled times, Jude knew what was best for me.  And even though he knew it hurt me, and it hurt him, he had to let me go.

Our lives went on completely different paths.   

And looking back, I have Jude to thank for the path I'm on.  I no longer question whether he really loved me.  I just have to look at where I am to know that he did.

I once heard that letting go is sometimes the most loving thing you can do for someone.

Even though it hurt a lot, I thank Jude for letting me go.     

clouds + cloud(ed)

I took this picture last Sunday.

It's one out of probably twenty I took of the clouds.

I just love how they fill the sky after the rain.

I wish everyday looked like this.

I've been struggling all afternoon.

After spending all morning in court, I came back into

the office with a dreadful headache.

Not to mention I hurt my neck last night,

and now, I can't turn my head to the right or to the left.

So, instead of working, I've been scrolling through old files, old blog posts,

and old (email) "reminders" I used to send to myself.

I came across this "reminder" I sent on March 30, 2011:

"Just came back from Phoenix.  Remember this: he motivates and inspires me

to be the best possible me.  I love him for that."

I was talking about A, who I've mentioned a couple of times

(though not sure if I've ever referenced him as "A").

But I wrote several posts about him, like here, here, and here. 

A and I are not speaking anymore.

But that has a lot more to do with me than him.

Today, especially after reading the reminders and previous posts,

I wondered why I pushed him out of my life.

Because I miss him everyday.

But, then I read the posts again.

The post about Dexter and Emma (One Day),

and I remembered why I pushed him out of my life.

Self-preservation.

I'm not saying it's right or wrong.

Many days I wish I could take it back.

But, we can't change how we feel.

I can't change mine, and he can't change his.

So, we do what's best for us.

I did what was best for me.

At the time.

I miss him though.

Everyday.

Desert Trip

I've always prided myself as being a city girl.  I LOVE the big city.  All the lights, the noise, the people, and the busy-ness of it all.  I feel alive in the big city.  I feel at home.  In my element. 

But this year, I took several trips to the desert.  And during my last trip not too long ago, I found myself drawn to the tranquility of the desert days and nights.  I fell in love with the night sky filled with stars and the sound of the whispering wind.  I felt a different kind of home. 

S, my oldest, best-est friend, asked me if I'd move there.  To the desert.  Well, actually, she said, I should move there.  With no question mark.  And when I saw the look on her face, that she really missed me, I couldn't lie to her: I'd have to have a good reason to.  Not that being closer to my oldest, best friend isn't a good reason, but I have my career and my family and my whole life in the city. 

But, I'd consider it, I told her. 

You see, I've always imagined myself living in two different places.  I just thought those two different places would be Los Angeles and New York.  I'd practice law in Los Angeles.  And I'd write and teach in New York.  I know people who do it.  And I told myself, one day, I will, too. 

But, then, I wouldn't mind writing in the desert either.  Something in the calm spoke to my heart.  My soul.  And touched a part of me that I didn't know existed.  Even the thunder and lightning (that freaked me out) gave me a jolt of inspiration. 

Plus, I love the drive there.  And if I could love that, then, I'm not quite the city girl I claim to be.  Here are some shots from my recent drive to and from the desert ... (I know I shouldn't be taking pictures, but I can't help not capturing the beautiful sky and scenic view.)       

Love it! :)

So, S said I could use her spare room.  Turn it into my office or writing space.  She's trying.  And I was touched.  I told her I'll come back in a couple of weeks.  Try it out and do some writing.  If I'm able to write two chapters, I might just take her up on her offer.  

New adventures are good.  Right?  And sometimes, even when we have no intention of going somewhere, we find ourselves there, and surprise ourselves.    

     

lucky (blessed)

Sometimes, we meet someone and it seems as if we've met them before.  At some other time.  At some other place.  Sometimes, a moment seems so perfect that you wonder how lucky you could be to experience it?  Sometimes, you wonder, if another moment could ever take its place?  Then, you wonder whether it was real?  Or just something you imagined?  Whether feelings could be that clear, that undeniable, and at the same time, that confusing and surreal? 

I know I've mentioned several times someone I hold dear to my heart.  A really good friend.  I'll call him Mr. Saturday.  I know it's embarrassingly unoriginal and uncreative, but I met him on a Saturday night, at a Halloween party (so maybe that part is a little more romanticized) many years ago, and when I told one of my very good friends about our unforgettable, sorta-strange encounter, I referred to him as Mr. Saturday since I could not remember his name (I know, another embarrassing confession).  But, I thought, I'll stick with the reference and call him Mr. Saturday.     

Anyhow, I had quite an indescribable evening with Mr. Saturday last week.  The best way I could describe it is by those questions I posed above.  You see, although I've known him for quite a few years, that evening, we talked as if we had just met and were excited to share stories of our lives with each other.  Then, at the same time, we talked as if we were two people who have known each other our whole entire lives.  There were many moments that night that just seemed perfect, synchronized, and sort of surreal.  Looking back, I think, I must be quite lucky (blessed) to have experienced such a connection with someone I care about.  It made me think of Charlie (and Sam) (hint: Perks of Being a Wallflower) - that that was what Charlie meant about feeling infinite.  Being infinite.  "... in that moment, I swear we were infinite."

I shared pieces of my life with Mr. Saturday that I haven't really shared with many others (unless, of course, they were a part of the memory, too).  I know I've been told many, many times, to never share sad stories.  But see, I've also always believed that the people you love should know who you are and where you come from, and should they love you in return, they will love the real you and not a figment of who they think you are.  For the first time, I didn't feel naked or vulnerable sharing my past with someone who didn't know about it.  Who didn't live it.  Who wasn't a part of it.  I felt safe.  And that alone, assured me, I was blessed.

You see, none of us have perfect lives.  And some of us have more imperfections than others, but I believe that it's what we do with those imperfections that matter.  "I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons.  And maybe we'll never know most of them.  But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there."  (Stephen Chbosky, Perks of Being a Wallflower)   

Sitting there with Mr. Saturday, sharing with him my imperfect past, my imperfect life, I knew, I believed, that no matter what happened from then on, I will be okay.  He will be okay.  We will be okay.  And that to me, made the moment perfect.  And made me lucky.  Blessed.  It was real.  Clear, undeniable, confusing and surreal kinda real.  Beautiful. 

Photo: lydiafairy

Bridge to Terabithia

I just finished watching this magical, awe-inspiring film.  

And honestly, I've been sitting here for the last ten minutes trying to find the words to describe it and I just can't.

But, you know what it reminded me of?  Fifth grade.  It was after school, and my childhood best friend (who I'll call Jude after his favorite Beatles song) and I were sitting with our backs against the handball wall telling our usual stories about living in a gigantic mansion filled with kids that we adopted.  This huge mansion had a grand double staircase that we'd slide down from along with the two dozen kids.  The mansion had a music room with every musical instrument there is, and in the center of the room was a white grand piano.  For me.  Because I played the piano, and Jude sang.  We'd have concerts every night.  Jude loved music.  Especially the Beatles.  A day wouldn't go by without him singing me a song.  Our mansion also had a huge library filled with first editions of Dickens, Shel Silverstein, alongside the Encyclopedia Brown and Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators series.  I've always loved to read.       

Jude and I loved to tell stories.  I loved writing them.  While he wrote poems.  

It was those moments that it didn't matter that our (my) parents didn't agree with our friendship.  It didn't really matter that no one understood us.     

Because we understood each other.  We were twins in another life.  We both had this identical red dot on our palms to prove it.  

I remember that day we raced across the empty hallways, and repeatedly tried to perfect a home plate slide at the end.  We screamed and sang to the walls.  We were our own fans.  We were happy.  

Jude always told me I could be anything.                    

We were ten and eleven, but we really loved each other. 

Bridge to Terabithia reminded me of our friendship.  And it inspired me to embrace life.  To seek its possibilities.  To love fearlessly.  To dream.  And believe in them.  That's what Jude wanted for me.  That's what he saw in me.  And since he's no longer around, I have to do them for him.  For me.  For the memory of our friendship.  Live our dreams.  Enjoy and feel and experience this beautiful world and life that he didn't get a chance to.

Some childhood friendships are the most special ones.  In some cases, they have the biggest impact in our lives.  So much of who I was and who I have become is because of Jude.  

I miss him. 

         

happiness in little (big) things

I will have a dinner party like this one day.



It's Friday, and I've had quite an exhausting week.  And although I still have tons to do, I'm just so giddy and excited for tonight!  My girlfriend is again spoiling me with another date night at the Bowl.  I love the Bowl.  And tonight it's Tchaikovsky (with a fireworks show!).  I can't sit still with excitement.

And then Anna (at Little Reminders of Love) just recommended a book (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn), and since it's Anna (who I think is the most adorable blogperson I know), I have to read it.  Actually, I've heard about the book (numerous times), so I'm finally picking it up.  For a must read.  This quote she posted (after stating that Francie "is a girl young girls should know") just hooked me: 

"People always think that happiness is a faraway thing," thought Francie,

"something complicated and hard to get.  Yet, what little things can make it up;

a place of shelter when it rains - a cup of strong hot coffee when you're blue;

for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you're alone -

just to be with someone you love.  Those things make happiness."

Like Francie, I do believe it's the little things that make up happiness.  (Although such little things can actually be BIG when it makes you happy.)  Like Tchaikovsky tonight.  Seeing a smile on the face of the one you love, and hearing that he's happy - even from far away.  Even if he's far away.  Text messages from my nephew.  Hearing my nephew's excited voice.  Talking to my best friend, and hearing him talk about his wife and daughter and new baby on the way.  Wonderful girlfriends.  This beautiful sunny day.  Saturday brunches by the beach.  J.K. Rowling to inspire me.   

Anyhow, gotta go back to work.  Lunch break is over ... and in a few hours, I get to listen to Tchaikovsky!  Heaven! :)   

      

Photo: Happy Weekend

that's the great thing about old friends

As I mentioned in my previous post, my best friend and I watched the same movie, at the same time, from two different states.  The funniest thing about that is that we didn't plan it.  At.  All.

But that's the great thing about old friends.  Somehow, you just know.  When to call.  When to text.  When to watch the same movie.    

I miss my best friend.  Although, in the last couple of months, I've wondered whether I just call her that out of habit or because she's the person I've known the longest (aside from family members).  But while I watched Something Borrowed, I thought, no, she's my best friend.  And I call her that because she just is.  I love her so much it hurts sometimes.  And I guess, that's why the last time we saw each other, it really upset me because I saw how unhappy she looked, and there was nothing I could do about it.  And she didn't want me to do anything about it.  She didn't seem to even want me around.  And what made things worst was that I was happy.  The happiest I had been in months.  And if there was anyone I wanted to share that with, it was her.  But I couldn't.  She was just unhappy and angry with life.  And it broke my heart.      

We haven't seen each other since then (more than six months ago).  And have probably only spoken a handful of times, and texted for another handful - 95% of the time initiated by me.  So, when she texted me on Saturday to tell me she thought of me, it almost made me cry.  And when she texted me today about the movie, I realized how much I want my best friend back.  And how much I just want my best friend to be happy.

I do believe that we have several soul mates in our lives.  And when we finally meet them, the moment we look into each other's eyes, smile, and shake hands, it seals our lifelong connection.  No matter the distance.  No matter the time.  And no matter the heartaches we cause each other.     

I met my best friend when I was eight years old.  (At that time, I had no idea that she would be my first soul mate.)  She sat next to me on the first day of class, introduced herself, and asked if we could be friends.  Forever.  And now, many many many years later, I know that we will. 

Our friendship have survived a lot of immaturity, heartache, and distance.  We've grown together.  And separately.  The last six months is just one of those separate growth periods.  But I'm going to see her in a couple of weeks.  And although I'm a little nervous, I'm really excited, too.   I asked her for at least one day.  Just me and her.  Like old times.  No husband.  No other friends.  Just me and her.  Her and me.  

We used to say to each, friends through thick and thin, and friends through sick and sin.  We've definitely done that.  We will grow old together like we planned as little girls.  Old women, living next door to each other, at our homes in the suburbs (which I think is the detail she added since I've always loved the big city).  When she moved to Phoenix from New York she reminded me of that plan, and reminded me that for some crazy reason, we talked about living next door to each other in a suburb - in the desert.  But I think that was a Waiting to Exhale influence that she added years after the initial plan.  Or a part of her ploy to convince me to move closer to her.

Oh, how I miss her!  

Photo: ashappyaskings

To the Dexters and Emmas of the world

I'm still reading One Day.  I intend to finish the book before the movie comes out.  It has taken me longer than I thought it would.  You know, been busy with work.  (And a little playtime here and there.) 

Anyhow, last night, I was at the part when Dex told Emma he was getting married.  And I felt this pang ... in my chest.  Somewhere close to my heart.  It made me wonder whether everyone has/have/had a Dex or an Emma.  Meaning, that person that made you smile, just upon hearing their name.  That person you think about when you think of the word crush or like or ... maybe, in love.  But it's also the person that you think about when you hear the word "almost" or "maybe" or "not quite."  The person you wonder about because they're not presently in your daily life, no matter how much they are presently in your daily mind.  And in your heart.  It's that why not person.  That whatever happened to person.  The could've been great but quite don't know person.  If you believe in all of those things.    

And reading the exchange between Dex and Emma upon the news of Dex's engagement made me want to call the Dex in my life.  Tell him to give me fair warning before he gets engaged.  Or married.  Give me fair warning before I lose him.  Again.  I just want to know ahead of time.  

Here's the exchange that made me feel that pang (that feeling that I'm afraid to lose him, but at the same time, I wonder, what am I losing?):

'But you're happy?'

'Yeah?  I think I am.  Are you?'

'Happier.  Happyish.'

'Happyish.  Well, happyish isn't so bad.'

'It's the most we can hope for.'  The fingertips of her left hand passed across the surface of a statute that seemed familiar, and now Emma knew exactly where they were.  Turning right, and then left would bring them out into the rose garden again, back into the party, back to his fiancee and their friends, and there would be no more time to talk.  She suddenly felt a startling sadness, so stopped for a moment, turned and took both of Dexter's hands in her own.

'Can I say something?  Before we go back to the party?'

'Go on.'

'I'm a little drunk.'

'Me too.  That's okay.'

'Just ... I missed you, you know.'

'I missed you too.'

'But so, so much, Dexter.  There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about, and you weren't there -'

'Same here.'

'And I feel a little guilty, sort of running away like that.'

'Did you?  I didn't blame you.  There were times when I was being a little ... obnoxious.'

'More than a little, you were bloody awful -'

'I know -'

'Selfish, and stuck-up and boring actually -'

'Yes, you've made that point -'

'But even so.  I should have stuck it out a bit, what with your mum and everything -'

'That's no excuse though.'

'Well, no, but it was bound to give you a knock.'

'I've still got that letter you wrote.  It's a very beautiful letter, I appreciated it.'

'But still, I should have tried harder to get in touch.  You're meant to stick by your friends aren't you?  Take the blow?'

'I don't blame you -'

'But even so.' To her embarrassment, she found that there were tears in her eyes.

'Hey, hey, what's up, Em?'

'I'm sorry, drunk too much is all ...'

'Come here.'  He put his arm around her, his face against the bare skin of her neck, smelling shampoo and damp silk, and she breathed into his neck, his aftershave and sweat and alcohol, the smell of his suit, and they stood like this for a while until she caught her breath and spoke.

'I tell you what it is.  It's ... when I didn't see you, I thought about you every day, I mean every day in some way or another -'

'Same here -'

' - even if it was just "I wish Dexter could see this" or "where's Dexter now?" or "Christ, that Dexter, what an idiot", you know what I mean, and seeing you today, well, I thought I'd got you back - my best friend.  And now all this, the wedding, the baby - I'm so, so happy for you, Dex.  But it feels like I've lost you again.'

(One Day by David Nicholls)

       

I think I would cry, too, the day he tells me he's getting married.  I wonder if he'd feel the same way should it be I who gets married first.

I know that the Dexters and Emmas are difficult to understand.  At least, my circle of friends don't.  Although they make great fictional characters and their stories are what romance movies are made of - people don't get them.  In real life.  Maybe, I don't either.  But, I get the feeling.  Those are real.

My cousin posted this short story "Long Walk to Forever" by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. on her site.  Reminds me of another Dex and Emma.  (I'm just not sure whether they have the same ending.)  But, it's a great short story.  Check it out: http://www.angelfire.com/or/grace/longwalk.html. 

Photo via

Some things remain the same ...

... like my love for daisies.

I think they're beautiful.

Simple.  Lovely.

Yesterday was awesome!

I felt pampered and spoiled.

Relaxed.  Very relaxed.

I-just-want-to-nap-kinda-relaxed.

So, when I got home last night,

I decided to turn off my phone,

and just read.

No, I didn't work. 

I read through old emails between my cousin and I.

She lives in a different country, so we write.

A lot.  And so, I read emails from 2006.

I was being nostalgic. 

Like I said, birthdays do that to me.

And wow!  I was surprised how things have changed.

I have changed.  A lot.

I'm happy.

I guess, what hit me most was how my heart wasn't

broken anymore.  As I read words I wrote about

someone I loved and lost, I didn't feel anything.

Not longing, not missing, nothing.

And it wasn't the I-don't-want-to-feel-anything-for-him feeling.

I really felt nothing.  Not a pinch in my heart.

I didn't become overwhelmed with nostalgia about him and us anymore.

There was no reflecting.  Nothing.  The words I read

about love, loss and regrets became just words.

And, I really don't know when all of the feelings stopped.

But they did.

Over dessert, my dear, best friend said to me,

I think all of the broken hearts and disappointments

were meant to prepare you for something greater.

I've seen you love and give it your all.

You will do that again.

And the thing I realized last night,

is that things do change.  We change.

But in the midst of change, some things remain the same.

The people I laughed and cried with five years ago,

ten years ago, even twenty years ago,

are still the same people I laugh and cry with now.

And I know that we'll continue to laugh and cry together

until we can no longer stand straight.

Some things remain the same. 

No matter how life has changed us.

And as much I welcome and embrace change,

I also embrace those things that remain the same.

I also know now, that our ability to love

never dies.  It may go in hiding for awhile.

But it'll always be there.

Because broken hearts have the ability to heal.

Our hearts do get restored.

Put back to pieces.

And we can love again.

Today, I celebrate new beginnings.

And an amazing year ahead.

Photo: Kiwi GaL

just let go!

I've officially started my weekend off.

Well, I decided to anyway.  A few hours early.

Funny how I can be so excited to be off

for the weekend.

Isn't that what a weekend is supposed to be for?

Some time off?

(Well, I really don't know how a full day off looks like anymore.)

(And honestly, I feel a little guilty because I should be

working.  You know, that BIG motion due in a few days.)

Then, I heard myself saying ...

encouraging, maybe even justifying ...

that I need this.  So, just let go!

For a few days.

Don't think about work

At.  All.

One of my dearest, best friends booked

us a massage and some calming/detoxing wrap

for this afternoon, followed by a lovely dinner.

She said, just escape.

Savor it.

You deserve it.

So, if she thinks I deserve it,

it's okay, right?

Well, I do feel less guilty.

(Maybe I'll be hitting myself on the head in a few days ...

but let's not look too far ahead.)

And what matters is right now.

This present moment.

And this present moment,

I'm clocking out.

Just looking forward to pure relaxation.

And lots of yummy food.

Sweet dessert.

Good conversation.

Great wine.

Hugs, kisses,

 and, of course,

 lots of laughter.

Isn't that what life is all about?

Photo: Caiti Borruso

my unconventional friend

a diary of little things and curiosities: the other kind of friend.: "There's something to be said for the every day sort of friend, the one you see so often they may as well be family--the one you do everythin..."

I love the above post by Laura.  It made me think about my other kind of friend.  I mean, I have several very good friends who I rarely see, I rarely speak to, and probably only exchange text messages with every couple of months.  Nonetheless, when I see them, we spend hours catching up and I remember why I consider them my very good friends.   

But this post (and the person I really thought about when I read Laura's post) is about a certain, special, other kind of friend.  Someone, I should say, I have quite an unconventional friendship with.  We don't see each other much.  He lives in a different state.  We don't even talk on the phone.  But somehow, I always feel connected to him.  Like he's not that far away.  Because no matter how much time has passed from the last time I saw him, his presence is still familiar and comforting, it's as if, not much time has passed at all.  If anything, I feel more of a closeness to him. 

For a long time, I wondered what it was between us.  What the connection was.  Who was he in my life?  Was he really just a friend?  But over the years, I've realized that it's really quite simple: he is my friend.  A different kind of friend who I don't have to see or talk to everyday to know that he's my friend or that he is someone special in my life.  And what I've realized lately, from the last few times I've seen him, is that I love him.  Just for who he is.  Who he has become.  And who is to me: someone who makes me strive to be the best person I can be.  Aren't those the best kinds of people in our lives? 

You know, a friend who inspires us to be our best selves.  And a friendship with no expectations or sense of obligation ~ just love.  And kindness.  And respect.  And trust.  Trust that no matter what, our interests or intentions are never to hurt one another.  That each other's happiness is what matters.  I believe that's what I have with him.  That's who he is to me.  My unconventional (best) friend.

And because of him, I've learned that love and friendship comes in different shapes and forms.  That there is no set design or format about how it should be or look like.  And as long as you each abide by this one criteria: be good to one another, the rest will follow.  The rest being a beautiful, albeit unconventional, friendship.

photo via weheartit