This was a post I intended to make last Friday, but time got away from me.  Or rather moody selfishness did, but that's a tale for another time.

Friday was a terrible day for me.  Just one of those foul-mooded, rotten, wish I had stayed in bed, kind of days.  The days where other people reap rewards, but in return you just feel even more miserable.  Flashes of green, wailing cries of broken dreams, and all that is usually included with such sour visitations.

Friday was terrible.  But leave it to her to snap me out of it.

That's one of the things that annoys me about her.  She has this nasty habit of not letting me stew over such mired emotions.  As a resident depressant, I must contend that I enjoy letting deep seated feelings of hurt boil and bubble.  There's none of that now, but that's what makes her significant.  She has the gentle touch to viscerally rip me away from such dark place.

It caused me to stop and ponder over the term "significant other," and where it applies in the matrix of relationships.  To offer up my own definition, a significant other is the kind of person who reads you instantly.  When I step in the door, it's no mystery to her just exactly what I'm feeling.  Likewise, a significant other knows how to affect those feelings.  I know the kinds of words I can use to help or harm her, as comic books often remind us... "With great power comes great responsibility."  It's the type of person that can make you want something you didn't want.  The type of person that can pull you up from a low point.  The type of person that will stop the clock and enter a midsection in the space of cosmic reality with you, leaving you the comfort and emotional assistance necessary to both grieve and grow. Words do little to describe with what incredible expertise these persons use wordless deeds.

I'm often one to champion her as some tantamount elevation in my personal existence, and it should come as no surprise since it inhabits part of the title of this blog.  But largely, I feel it is simply my duty to uphold and cherish her.  It is not perfection that I describe, but rather the imperfect joys and revelations of a relationship so finely crafted and designed that dares to touch upon the outskirts of perfection.  It may not be perfection, but it is perfectly-suited for me.