I shouldn’t write when I am emotional but I always do, so what the hell. Have you ever found yourself living in someone else’s body? That when you talk to them, you can see yourself through their eyes and you actually like what you see. That you can talk to them about everything and be who you are without a single note of artifice, which, actually, is the most difficult thing to do. That you burned your security blanket and allowed yourself to be who you are just as you are at that exact moment. And they do the same. Mirror people.

For once you don’t feel as if you have to run to the rescue. Their demons, you have met them. Perhaps they are scratching on the door of someplace you may have entertained. One day the door will open and you won’t know what to do or where to go or who could possibly comfort you. But at the same time, you’re not afraid. You could never be afraid again. Because of this person who lives in your body and looks out of your eyes. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, it’s ok.

You are me as a boy.

Perhaps it’s just as well we found one another at this time and not at any other time. The world wouldn’t have been able to cope with the combination. We would have burned so bright, people would have been lured to their deaths. As it is, the fire still burns, sometimes its beauty makes me look away, at all the light that is us.

I’m on the ledge with you.

If I could, I would be right there in person. But this will have to do. I hate that it will have to do. But this is the way it is. Perhaps you don’t know this, but life is a kiss when you show up. It’s not a party without you. Even if the party is somewhat muted these days. We’re still there in spirit and glitter and glimmer, like Santa Barbara and the Star of the Sea.

This is way too emotional but I make no apologies. The funny thing is, you might not even read this. And if you do, you might not even know that it’s you. That would be so you. But baby, it’s you.