Failure? Failure is sitting here on a cloud-shrouded-moon night with this bottle of sweet cheap port wine, eating a grocery store picnic with numb fingers and talking to you. Yeah, we’re far from the city. Far from home and in a beautiful place. But what are we even doing? It’ll likely be too wet to climb tomorrow, even if I can find a partner.
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That's sure how it feels. It reminds me of the Reagan era, but worse. :(
not knowing, I suppose, whether you’re balancing things correctly.
An all-too-familiar struggle we share. I second-guess myself on this one regularly.
I hope you get a chance to actually meet up with that friend again someday soon...
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