Zombies are beings that continue to “be”, despite being dead.
You become a zombie if you get bitten by one, or if you get infected with the zombification virus in some other way or –according to some accounts-, by looking at them.
Zombies supposedly feed on brains.
… And that is all I want to say about that…
This blog is not about zombies.
This blog is about Zeef.
Zeef is my friend.
If grown-ups are still allowed to speak in these terms, I dare say she may even be my best friend.
I know she reads my blog (hai Zeefje!).
She reads it partly because she is interested in my musings, but I think a big part of why she reads it is because she knows it is important to me. That’s Z.
Anytime I find myself facing some odd conundrum, I can’t wait to throw it at her and listen to her beautiful gentle heart and shrewd mind give it a spin.
Her words are always carefully chosen without ever compromising on the message she wants to deliver.
I wish everyone could have a friend like her. As a matter of fact, I wish everybody WAS her, or at the very least had a little version of her on their shoulder to guide them through life.
I tell her this often which she tends to dismiss. She usually does this by pointing out she didn’t go through years of therapy for nothing and that the world doesn’t need more of that…
And that is true. After three decades of life, she has gone through a lot, both physically as mentally.
She is so incredibly receptive that, at times, it hurts her. It’s the fact that others are not so sensitive (and therefore unclear about their own feelings, intentions and actions both to themselves as those around them) that makes living in this world difficult for her sometimes.
All though I think she is one of the best things that ever happened to this planet, her feeling of self-worth is not always on the same level.
So, when a couple of weeks ago she boldly said she was expecting the Z-blog to be about her, my heart made a little leap for joy.
It means she is ready to be put in a tiny (anonymous) spotlight.
It also implies she trusts me enough to bring an ode to her.
Better even, she is ok with the image I have of her and maybe… only maybe… she is starting to believe she is as much of a rockstar as I give her credit for.
With Zeef by my side, I wouldn’t be afraid of the zombie apocalypse. She’d reason a heartbeat back into each and every one of those brain-eaters.
So dearest Z, I’m sorry for not being able to resist the urge to tease you by not naming the blog after you and giving you the impression I had ignored (or forgotten) your request.
I also realize the sudden switch from Zombies to Zeefjes may have caught you off guard. So, take a breath and let your racing heart take it in. You are awesome and I am so grateful that I can call you my friend!