Reposting for relevance:
Yesterday (Friday 23 December, 2011) it was precisely two years since I last saw Mark. We spent the night getting tipsy and high and hot-tubbing, telling stories and making love. One week later he was dead, in the same room in the same house where we’d laughed only seven days before.
His friendship and love saved my life, gave me the strength to set myself free from a life that was destroying me. And then before I could catch my breath he was gone.
He was far from perfect. He was flawed and I regularly wanted to strangle him. But he had a heart the size of a house, an intelligence that was like violins, and a laugh that made my knees weak. And he was my best friend.
Today I need to be held by him more than I have in a long while - not to fix what’s wrong, just to help me feel less alone in the enduring. Just to have his warm hand on the back of my neck, just to hear his voice.
Ah, shit, kid, why did you have to leave? This sucks to deal with alone.
I hope your beautiful heart is finally at rest.
Sunset in Salmon Arm.
Beautiful place, beautiful brave women, on an amazing journey: my friends :)
If you can make it through this without tears in your eyes at the sweetness and rightness of it, then I don’t want to know you.
Because several of my emancipated female friends still tell me “I’m not as much into the feminism thing as you”. And my enlightened guy friends still act like I’m being just a bit hypersensitive. W.T.F?
cambridge university students were asked on campus why they needed feminism. here are 60 answers. click the link for over 600 more.
cat selfies. ;)
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