Best friends

For yet another time, I’m lying on my bed looking at the window across the room. It’s just another Sunday. I really hate Sundays. How many hours have I been looking at that window for? Maybe summers long. Mornings, when I used to wake up full of energy, afternoons when I was lying on my bed after the beach when I used to observe the sky getting darker and darker and finally the countless sunrises. How many times, sweetly dazed, I brutally closed you, because your light annoyed me? What have I thought about while looking at you? How well do you know me? My regrets and my desires? How many summers have you stood by my side, my immovable listener? A friend that will never judge me nor ask for justification. You will only stand there helping me move only forward. You, each morning, will bring the morning sun on my face, helping me get out of bed, getting me ready for yet another story. You, each afternoon, will bring the sweet breeze on my body, a cool feeling and at the same time goosebumps; a bizarre feeling, like pinching yourself to wake up from really bad feelings. You, each sunrise, will bring me the sweet smell of the night flowers to help me get over every bad day. This strange friend that can with only little effort, hide me so easily from the rest of the world; that can, so easily give me a space that doesn’t belong to anyone else but me, that only exists for me and my thoughs. So that I evolve my thoughs. So that I evolve myself. After all my dearest, that’s what every best friend should do.

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