I'm coming up for air right now to say that everything is fine. Fine and rich and cthonic and gestational and sensual and hard and painful and joyous and healthy and weird. I've been cocooning, it seems, and while I have yet to really see how this chrysalis is going to take shape and form, I sense that I'm on an interesting threshold to interesting vistas and interesting accomplishments. She changes everything She touches, and as someone I once knew and loved once said, "She's got Her hands all over me."
You've been brightening my world deliciously, and I'm enjoying the idea of Possibility. Damn, I like you. Damn, you're fucking cool. Damn, you're fun. Damn, I want to see you open to your fullest potential. Being together may introduce some interesting changes in each of our worlds, but I'm already believing that It's All Good. I wonder if my friends will recognize me. I'll smile as we watch the lake, the fires, the night sky from the lifeguard chair together, making out to the strum of guitars on the beach and the quiet gasps of our quickened breathing.
Those are words I never dreamed that I would ever write, at least not as far as our friendship seems to be concerned. How often had we promised to remain in one another's lives, no matter what happened between us as lovers, no matter whom else we might be with in our futures? I cannot grasp this particular choice that you made, and how it echoes old pains. How could you? You've been my best friend for a long time. Despite my badassedness, this leather self, the man who had first collared you and had been Your Rock, I do miss you awfully and I will miss our friendship dearly. I wish you total success, love, and joy. I love you and I will love you. My door is and will remain open to you: all you need do is say hello. No judgment, no angst. I, for my part, will remain your friend. Namaste.