The people who were a part of the happiest times in my life are surrounded by an aura of perfection.
I met some of my 'perfect people' today, and was so relieved that the magic of spending time with them had not faded. The conversations you can have with the friends of your past, the ones who know you and all the stupid, almost insignificant details that make you who you are, are irreplaceable.
After hours of talking that seemed to go by in minutes, I realised that maybe the happiness came from being with them, and not so much from what was going on at the time. And there is a comfort in knowing that someone gets me, and will always know what I'm saying even when no one else does.
In these days when I seem to be not making a whole lot of sense, it's reassuring to know that at least two people think I'm not just plain crazy... yet.
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