For all I care, I have found a good friend

I felt so down and low. I had no place to be. I had no friends around. The friends I had didn’t seem to share my mood. I had to find a place for my own—where my emotions would be better understood; where my feelings would be interpreted without judgment.

And my only resort was to look for a friend online. Sometime it is the best haven. I didn’t need to introduce; I didn’t even need to care about whether I looked the right way to meet someone. It is nothing like—you are going for a date for the first time with a guy you have liked for a long time. In that world, you don’t have to care if you are wearing the right make-up; or if you are wearing the right dress.

You just show up, and speak out your mind, ruthlessly straight. I did just that, that evening. I found a friend already, even before I had time to catch a glass of wine. (I know this is my imagination carrying me again. I would never be in a party hall where I would be so majestically standing, holding a wine glass and talking to a good-looking stranger.) We didn’t care to introduce—there was no need for that. The conversation went on so flawlessly smooth that we forgot night had set in and we had to tend to our own set of responsibilities. He had to go home. He had an hour drive ahead. I had to go for dinner. My friends were waiting. But that moment, nothing seemed to matter more than having each other to talk to.

As we bid goodbye, finally our responsibility call winning over our emotions, I was jumping in joy. I shouted at my friends who didn’t share my mood earlier that, “I found such an interesting person. Goodness, I’m so light and happy now!” Their eyes twinkled because they wondered who in the world could completely scrap out sorrow the way snakes shed their skin. But I was all set for this official dinner now. I felt my eyes twinkling. I felt my lips twitching in smile. But that was it. I was glad the unhappiness doesn’t last.

And now, this friend that helped me shed my sorrow by simply talking to me without the questions of wanting to know who I was, where I worked, how I looked, or whether I was married or single still sees me in the good skin of human; though, there are times when I go a little crazy and speak things beyond my mind. I’m not falling in love. No, I’m not. I’m in my right mind. But I want to read a love letter. Say I want to see how this guy writes. And he says, “I love you.” He says, that is the only way he can express himself. And then he asks, “Are you happy now?” Should I be happy now? I don’t know.

But for all I care, I have found a good friend.