Missing You

Sometimes I miss you so much I want to cry. I know that sounds weird and potentially creepy, but it's not meant that way at all. It's meant in a pure, happy, beauty-of-the-snow-on-the-tree-limbs way.

Stephen King (of course, he had to come into this) wrote, "Friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant, did you ever notice that?"

Sometimes I think it's absolutely true. Other times (less frequently) I think there are a lot of factors that lead to it, yeah, usually being true. Today, I hope it's a load of shit.

What makes someone a friend? Is a similar life necessary? Similar interests and hobbies?

Or is it all about Ka. Oh, I only wish I knew ...