I've spent hours every week trying to write a blog post. I have six partially-finished, wholly abandoned drafts sitting in my posts list. Somewhere along the way, my motivations and inspirations fell off the face of the earth, and try as I might, I can't seem to recover them.
Today my inspiration stems from my heavy, heavy heart. I witnessed the end of a very close friendship, with a person I admire and adore with everything I have (I will call him Friend). He was probably the first person to become a constant reader and vocal supporter of this blog, though I don't believe he is a follower any longer. He has never been anything less than an unwavering foundation through some of the worst of my struggles with this stupidly persistent disease.
I am in awe of the process of a decomposing friendship. All I can do, lately, is watch as my personal relationships crumble around me. I had some vague feeling of dread about this particular friendship, as if I were watching it burst into pieces but possessed absolutely no useful abilities for stopping the inevitable explosion. Explode it did, into a million childish, horribly intimate jabs at each other, a thousand terrible names and words and feelings.
