I had a bottle of wine Friday night. (Okay, two.) I was on my laptop, in my pajamas, listening to music and chatting with Alice. I was having a great time, singing to both of my dogs (out of key) and just enjoying the feeling of not feeling like utter shit for a while.

Alice and I are really close for two people who have never met in person. We’ve talked on the phone numerous times which is always nice, there is never any awkward silences. We fill the miles between us with laughter, sometimes even tears.

She had previously voiced her concern over my recent choice to incorporate getting lit like a Christmas tree once or twice a week into my repertoire. Knowing that someone worries is a wonderful feeling akin to being wrapped in a warm blanket that hasn’t started getting those nubs yet.

I told her that I appreciated it but that I don’t see a problem as long as it doesn’t become a nightly habit.

life-is-not-a-fairy-tale-if-you-lose-a-shoe-at-midnight-youre-drunk

“I would rather drink some wine now and then. Those pain pills scare me, Wonder Twin.”

“Yeah, I know,” she typed back.

Anyone who experiences chronic pain is always dreaming of lessening their discomfort. I am not an exception to this. I never claimed to be a saint and in my lifetime thus far I have sinned often.

“Because I am always in pain, Alice. Always, you know?”

She’s as anxious as a lightning bug caught in a jar much of the time. She understands the concept of always, of the word chronic, which is basically the same thing.

Our conversations go from light to dark and back again. Somehow, we keep finding humor in our various burdens, which helps carry us through day after day. It’s a talent that both of us were gifted with and it’s part of what binds us together so strongly.

We met here on WordPress in the spring of 2013. I never really thought before that you could love someone over the internet but you can. It’s quite possible to develop real emotions for someone over a course of time, with each thoughtfully typed word shared.


I talk about my blog so often to my therapist, she observed that it must mean a great deal to me.

“It does. I mean, I love to write. But…”

‘It’s a connection to the outside world,” she finished my sentence for me.

“Yes!”

She couldn’t have put it better. I don’t have the luxury of being around people (trust me, not working gets old fast) in order to cultivate relationships. Indeed, I am an introvert but that doesn’t mean that I don’t desire human interaction.

Believe it or not, I crave it now more than ever.

When two people click, they just click.

Even through a computer screen.

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