Friends

What are friends for?

They are people, of all sorts. Of different shapes, sizes who come with different versions of their Intelellectual capacities.
They are people who are close to you, to your self, to what you call your alter ego.

Why do you need them?

To listen to you when you are in need. To talk to them about how low you feel when you hit the bottom of the emotional pit.

But does that happen always?

No, not at all times. Not when they are smaller in emotional capacity and in intellectual comprehension. Not when they cannot see, what you draw out of immense pain and trauma. Not when they cease to understand your language. Not when your emotional vocabulary is much more comprehensive when compared to theirs, and they do not understand your articulations.

Crowded Solitude

When people yearn to learn from you, more than what you would ever expect to learn from them, it becomes a pain, and an unbearable one at that. When you have scoured them inside out, and have exhausted every emotion and every moment that seemed to have existed, you cannot take it any more.

When you meet somebody in the quest to learn something that will belittle you, your knowledge, your triumph, your fight, your hunger and your self, then you find what you already have in you, but nobody knew. Nobody knew because you never advertised. And you never advertised because you never felt it was big enough for advertisement.

Continued Pretention

I have friends, really good friends. And they are the elixir of my life.

What do you think?
Do other metamorfers think at all?