It’s so nice to have different interests, passions and, occasionally, obsessions. So it’s just as nice to have friends to whom you can text random things to, at any time, to ask advice, share news, or even just let off steam over a new development or discuss. Friends who are into books, writing, organic food and cooking, different kinds of music, even self-improvement stuff like being brave and unselfconscious. There are the sensitive soul-searchers I can talk with about epiphanies and revelations and realisations; the career darlings about communications, professional development, work, pay, contracts, and so on; the idealists about humanitarian and development issues, about climate change. I love that if something is ever bothering me, I often have someone to whom I can talk and discuss it. Being an only-child, I treasure this deeply. I value that connection.
I can be prickly sometimes. Yet, still, my friends have stayed; sometimes right there with me, holding my hand, sometimes waving a pompom or two from afar as their own lives become busy or take dramatic turns. I wave back, sometimes morosely, often cheerfully; sometimes I get in the pit with them, holding out chocolate bars and other people’s worn wisdom. And it’s one of life’s loveliest mysteries.