Dear, dear

I’m always that middle man, the intermediate, the step between needing and loving. I’m the pit stop where people come and unload their problems but forget that a person resides in the teller’s box. I’m the halfway point between falling apart and getting it together. Don’t worry. Stop here. Tell me what’s wrong. Use me for your own devices. Take and take. Don’t ask if I mind. You and I both know that’s not your concern. Your concern is yourself. You need to get back on track, clear your mind, unload your emotions. You need advice. You need direction. You need me – but only for a moment. Only until I satisfy that void. Only until I fix you up.

 
And then you go. You leave and carry on your way. You forget that a person resides inside the teller’s box. A person with a life, with feelings, with thoughts and hopes and dreams and problems of their own. You forget. You never knew in the first place. Because you never looked.

So carry on.

Until we meet again.
Welcome back.

How can I help you?

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