I’m blessed because ...

... I have those wonderful, loving friends ... and I would be nothing without them.

I love my friends for who they are and for what they do as much as for what they don't, for taking me out of my self at times and for reconciling me with it at others.

I love them for being caring and sympathetic and big-hearted and generous, reasonable and funny and crazy and wise, amazing and understanding and wild and insightful and candid and honest and sensible and sometimes for being such terrible pains in the ass.

I love them for telling me I'm greatness when I feel like chicken-shit, for dealing with my moods and madness, my dreams and temporary despair, I love them for telling me not to take myself so fucking seriously when I lose myself in drama, for feeding me when I'm hungry and soothing me when I hurt, for listening to me when I overflow with thoughts and for simply being there when I think I'm lost, I love them for making me laugh when I want to cry, for making my fly when I think I must crawl and for keeping my feet firmly on the ground when I run danger of losing myself in the stars and the clouds.

I love them for their strength as much as for their weakness, their wit as much as their fears, I love them in their ups and downs and joys and angers. They catch my fall, they ease my sorrow, they open my heart and my eyes, they make me smile and sing and dance, they make me shout and scream and cry at times but they are always there to reason, to talk, to make up again.

I love them for sharing my crazy life with me and letting me know they love me back ... their words and deeds and thoughts mean the world to me.

I think I'm blessed. I know I am.