ode to Emili / Rumination on friendship

Good evening- for the first time in a while i felt the need for indulgent self expression and sharing. Couldn't sleep so got up and switched on the laptop. After a whirling few days of hopeless blues and directionless depression, finally seem to have hopped right out of my lethargy and confusion and onto the road of purpose and excited questioning.
Had a good skype session with my little best uni friend after not having spoke to her for ages.
She is currently doing night shifts in the library, hiding her confused little frowny face behind piles of philosophy books and alternating between drawn out periods of hesitation and inertia one minute to scurrying outpoarings of spontaneous ideas the next. Or so i like to imagine. It is nice when you feel that you know someone so well that you can picture how they would react and behave under certain conditions.
 I often find myself captivated by mannerisms and expressions that are particular to an individual and find myself unconsciously copying them. When I am pretending to be Emily, I tend to put a certain amount of absurd focus into what I am doing, say, making a cup of tea, but with an equal balance of carelessness, but as though the very carelessness were part of the ritual, perhaps flinging the teabag away with a practised disdain. We often used to throw them out of the window when we lived in halls. Her room overlooked a secluded little overgrown garden, and there must have been a veritable compost heap underneath her first floor window by the time we moved out- although i like to imagine little birds coming and feeding as an extension of the ritual- nourishing themselves during the harsh north east winter from the litter of indian leaf cigarette butts and camomile teabags, chirpily accepting their little offering.
I really feel that we are both as chaotic as the other, but help each other to bring a certain equilibrium to one another's lives. And that even though we are apart, physical distance and even time makes little difference to the hum of connection, like a radio station tuned in, be it from the other side of the world or from the next room- although that is not to say that I don't feel the occasional sickening nausea brought on by living in this state of being without. Perhaps it is just a normal friendship? There are many anecdotes I could recount, but they are just tales of ordinary things. I think when someone reveals dulldrum everyday life to have a hidden almost spiritual dimension, then that is something particular. But really, it is just yourself who is creating this magic and these changes, only perhaps sometimes we need another person to act as a trigger. Lonesomeness is far overrated.