Always lucky for the people in my life. 

Lucky that they stay out with me later than they should, just to hear me whine.
Lucky that they don't get upset when I tear up in a bar.
That when I say, "she was only here for a week, I should be over it by now," they tell me, "fuck that, it was important and it mattered and you know it."
That when I tell them how guilty I feel for still being sad two weeks after she left they tell me, "you're allowed to be sad and you're allowed to feel that for however long you want to."
That they give me good advice like, "it'll work out, you just need to stop thinking about the timetable."
That they understand that I love them and that my desire to leave has nothing to do with them.

That they love me unconditionally and without fail are there when I need them.

That I'd take them, all of them, with me in a heartbeat if I could.

That leaving them is what scares me the most.