The ones who wrapped me up in a snuggy (one of those as-seen-on-TV blankets with sleeves) pushed a cup of tea into my hand and sat me down on their sofa before putting on Four Weddings and A Funeral, pointedly ignoring the fact that the parts I cried at weren't the sad ones.
The ones who kept up with me as I stormed across town, cursing and swearing, sometimes at myself, sometimes at someone else, sometimes at the world in general.
The one who sent me home at 2 am when I would have happily stayed.
The one who said he didn't regret it, didn't regret me.
The one who assured me I was a beauty, chips or no chips.
The one who said, "You look great. You stop eating again?"
The one who said "Well, can you blame me?"
The one who thought I was out of his league.
The one who paid for my taxi so I didn't have to walk.
The one who's going to hold my hand while I get my first tattoo.
The one who told me I was too good for that guy, even when I didn't believe it.
The one who handed me earplugs.
The one who asked all the right questions when nobody else would even listen to me.
The one who I never believed.
The one I always believed.
Everybody whose moment I'm forgetting at this particular juncture. Everybody who did good things for me. Everybody I forget about on the bad days. Just like how on the good days I forget about the bad things and bad people, it's even easier to forget all the good on the bad days.
Everybody who's still listening.
Everybody who's still dreaming.
Daydream Believer
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