A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal, that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought, which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another.
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First Series
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First Series
Why some people come into our lives
Is it random, planned, on a recommend
Or just another fashion for us to survive
I often ponder over that question
Brooding over why they do
As folks are tough to work with
Too complex, cryptic to construe
May be we all scare each other
Yet none of us ever live alone
We all need masses to go on
Friendship is a comforting thing
Secure blanket we can hide in
Lie in naked of all pretentions
Uncloaked and safe of all tensions
Cry, shout, laugh, be what we are
Shatter, scatter and split apart
They are potions to make us whole
Not some freak mechanic to control
For each day we sleep of strife
For everyday each of us revive
We are all crazies, we are all flawed
But, we all wing it, we all make do
