Friends

No, not the TV program. You stupid fucker.

Real friends. People who will put their own shit a little further back on the conveyor belt of life, to scan and process yours. I never used to value the value of friends, until that day I really needed to use them as my mental zimmer frame.

And the great thing is, you find there are people out there who will listen, deal with and make sense of all your excrement, for free and, they mean it. It doesn't just speak volumes without talking, it means the whole world. Suddenly there's a realisation that there are people out there, that you would never consider having sex with, who can still mean the earth. Unloading enough of your shit to bury a small town, these friends absorb, listen, talk and advise. They might be as mad as a box of epileptic badgers, but the fact they're willing to listen and care means you'll put up with the paw prints.

What follows next? Enlightenment. That someone will do something so selfless for you, you then know how to do it for someone else. The slab of granite you've been leaning on, you want to be that slab for someone else, someone who needs it more than you. It's not about your own validation anymore, it's about making sure that friend is OK, that you're helping, that they won't let their crap envelope them like a duvet of depression. Most of people's shee-ite is short term, and they just need some binoculors to spot the wood from the trees. Provide that viewing aid, and you're doing the right thing.

Perspective is sometimes a skill, sometimes a gift, sometimes a curse. When it's a skill, use it. When it's a gift, give it. When it's a curse, use your friends.

I can only dedicate this one to my rock, they know who they are, and, thank you.