I gave her the worst version of my week and she did not try to improve it before she let me be seen in it

Dear Delyara, I didn’t give her the edited version. I told her I had been envious, ashamed, brittle, tired, embarrassed by how close to tears I had felt in public over ordinary things. I told her I felt behind in life and silly for still wanting more while already struggling to carry what I had. It was not a flattering conversation to have with someone. She didn’t hurry me away from it. She didn’t fix me into a motivational quote. She didn’t perform concern in a way that made me feel I now had to care for her reaction too. She just stayed warm and let me sound like a whole messy human being. I think that is what friendship means more and more to me now: not someone who loves your best self, someone who does not flinch when the less attractive truth walks into the room first.