I Wasn't Calling You About Lightning

I hate to think of you when the term fair-weather friend comes up, and it does. I will never desert you completely, and that is selfish, because it is not for your sake, but for my own. You are too excellent and amazing to me to give up for anything else at all, and certainly for nothing. Every once and a while I need you when I need you, I thought that would be something you would understand. When you need someone you show up, and if I didn't feel so perpetually awful about myself I would likely go trying to find you myself. I don't know why you, I really don't, I wish so badly that I could disclose any of the things I need to tell you to my best friends. But I can't, and I guess everyone needs those people. You see the people in your life in such a wonderful and fantastic way, I hate so much to taint you constantly with the grittiness and grossness of my thoughts and life, maybe for that I really will leave you alone. Sad how badly I wanted that call, you want to talk about pretty things, like thunder and lightning, I wanted to talk about darkness, and my storms. I hope more than anything in the world that my rain cloud dissipates, and I can tell you what a nice day it is, and really mean it.