September 15, 2018:
She makes me laugh.
More deeply and more freely than any other person I know.
There's no mystery in that. I understand her. I know where the pain lies hidden, I know what the rhythms are which underly her humor. Her jokes are immediate to me, intuitive, because she herself is.
Her comic timing is exact. In person, in writing, in memes. She'd be a brilliant performer if she had the ego.
Many of her stories are self-deprecating. Hilarious horror movies of dates gone terribly wrong. Others are simply brilliantly witty word-play, as you'd expect from someone as genius-bright as she.
There was another, long ago. We know this story. No-one could make me laugh the way she could, for all the same reasons. I understood her, including her jokes. I mistakenly and rather tragically believed she was unique in my life. She wasn't. Now there's another, who's changed my understanding for the better. Of myself and of the world.