Dear Reader

I want you to know
Reader,
Who she really is.
Cause I think she can sometimes be afraid to tell you
And I think its, in part, because she is much more passionate and intense
Than most people I know
And I think that is the true nature of her depression
It is not a depression that you feel sadness from
Or a disparity of not understanding
On the contrary
It is a keen perception
A fine tuned sensitivity to the world
And the nuances of emotions
That most gloss over.
It is the intensity that one feels in life
And the passion to break from this preordained existence.
To reach out and discover
Ones own calling
Your shooting star
But this is just the core
The central force of her being
You see,
Before I knew her,
She was a lump
Inert.
I am fortunate enough to have said the right words.
At least without realizing it at first
Because she listened.
She heard “freedom” somewhere in all of my psuedo-philosophical diatribe
But it was enough

Today I see her,
Reader,
She is Brilliant
Like a shining star
Traveling on its own accord
Her own path
She is beautiful
And that comes out of her confidence
Stands strong and tall,
For those that don't know,
With confidence, comes a sense of humor
And having a sense of humor requires a specific quality:
Spontaneity
You've see those stiffs
The control-it-alls
The ones who are too busy telling you what to do
They lack the ability to be in the moment
Where their sense of humor dies
Because the insecurity of not having things go their way
Well, her... I mean, she
Has restored that within herself
And its amazing to see
Infectious, I tell you.
The smile, it spreads and you cant resist it
Laugh
I am proud of her
And I love her

So you see,
Reader,
The world can be a hell
But each of us are a key
To unlock someone else's prison
We are only humans in those cages
But when someone lets us out...
...Ineffable