Time that withers you will wither me. We will fall like ripe fruit and roll down the grass together. Dear friend, let me lie beside you watching the clouds until the earth covers us and we are gone.
―Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body
He was really trying to be my friend, without all the emotional baggage we both carried – mine still with me, but carefully folded in vacuum bags so they’d occupy as little room as possible and his, hanging on his shoulders like lead armor, making him slouch sometimes. And yet, as pinned down as he was, he was the one comforting me, supporting not only his weight but mine, too. It wasn’t fair.