What It Means To Be Human

29 May

Talk to me.

Tell me about your fears and all of the things that keep you up at night.

The big things like, what you are going to do with your life and what the future holds.

And the small things too, like how you had a bad day because your boss was mean to you.

Or how you feel guilty for cheating on your diet with that chocolate ice cream cone.

I want to know what makes you tick.

Like how you love spending time in cemeteries and how you go to the bookstore to feel safe.

How you hate it when people yell and violence scares you.

How you secretly love romantic comedies.

But hate happy endings.

How you wish people would invest in love just a little bit more.

I want to know about the time you got dumped and thought the world was going to end.

But then, I want to know how you survived.

Because, you did.

You survived.

Tell me about the happiest moments in your life.

Don’t sit there and think about them.

The happiest moments do not have to be thought about, they come to mind instantly.

Tell me about the moments when you knew you were alive.

I am not talking about the time you paid for a luxurious vacation.

No, that is not a moment of infinite life.

Dig deep.

Remember a moment when you did not have to spend money, but sat in the company of friends around a campfire.

Drinking wine.

Your own laughter echoing through the trees.

Time suddenly froze.

And in that instant, you knew.

You were alive.

Tell me about the moments that made you cry.

The people that broke your heart.

And the songs that saved your life.

Tell me about all the horrible things you have done.

How you lied to your parents.

Cheated on your spouse.

Stole money from your best friend.

You are not perfect.

And I don’t expect you to be.

I will not shame you, belittle you or scold you.

It’s okay.

We all make mistakes.

Forgive yourself.

Tell me about your favorite books.

And about the fictional characters that feel like your best friend.

About the moment you knew you loved him.

Tell me about your dogs. Your cats. Your horses.

And how your happiness depends on theirs.

Tell me about the day you lost your virginity.

And how it didn’t live up to your expectations.

Or how it did.

Tell me about your parents.

How they love you.

How they unknowingly hurt you.

How they inspire you.

Tell me about the abortion you got.

And how your boyfriend wasn’t there to hold your hand.

You felt so alone.

But you are not.

Tell me about your flaws.

And why you see yourself as so imperfect.

Tell me all of these things.

Because I care.

Because I understand.

Or at least, I will try to.

Because everybody needs a friend.

Someone to talk to about anything.

Or someone to sit in silence with.

And somehow feel understood.

Someone who will look you in the eyes.

And ask to see your scars.

Your flaws.

Someone who says,

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

And then you do.

And you are still loved.

Without judgement.

This.

This is what it means to be a friend.

To have a friend.

To survive in this world.

And not go insane.

This.

Is what it means.

To be Human.

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2 Responses to “What It Means To Be Human”

  1. queerf0x June 6, 2013 at 5:55 am #

    I love this, so, so much. And I love YOU for writing and posting it. *hug*

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