She is my antidote. Cure against chaos. Voice of reason. Guardian of sanity.
The spout tips and tears pour out.
I come out of drunken stupor. I see for the very first time. I am surrounded by halves, another childhood habit of appeasing the timid. To bridge the gap between the pedestal from which I am perched and those admiring me from afar. A friend recounted a similar childhood experience. He called himself the “reluctant golden child”. I was the same: reluctant and recalcitrant.
She reminds me of who I used to be and where I am. She asks me tough questions. She calls me out on my bullshit.
I empty myself. Truth pours out. I am lighter and stronger than I was before we spoke.
She is my star.