They are the ones I can be the best kind of bad influence on. They are the knowing glance when words don’t have to be spoken to understand we’re thinking the exact same thing. They are the ones with whom my stealth setting does not work.
They are the shoes off and feet up on my sofa. They are rummaging through my fridge because they fancy something to munch on. They are asleep in my bed as I stay up to finish the movie. They are holding the cake for me as I blow out my candles. They are the family I have chosen.
They are the laughter at the same moment in a darkened cinema. They are the bad joke that I already know the punch line to without ever having heard it before. They are my shared fascination at something no one else has ever heard of. They are my favourite quotations. They are my unaccounted hours lost in conversation.
They are the arm linked with mine wherever we go. They are the head on my shoulder as we ride the bus home. They are my biggest smile. They are the ache in my side as I laugh too hard. They are the smiles staring back at me in a hundred photographs. They are that hug that does not come with a time limit.
They are the hands firmly grasping mine when I feel myself slipping. They are the ones who save me from myself. They are the voices on the other side as I find my way out of the darkness. They are the ones who let me go, knowing I’ll come back when I’m ready.
They are the people for whom I am always enough, but will always strive to be more for. They are the ones that allow me to be me without restraint. They are an island of reality in an ocean of diarrhoea.
They are my (in)sanity.