..... All my life, I've been the first one to run to a friend's rescue. All they have to do is ask and I'll drop everything and run to them.
They can be sick with the flu, or severely depressed, or so distraught that they're seriously thinking of suicide, and I will be there, come hell or high water.

But very rarely have those same friends reciprocated those feelings back to me. I"m not sure if that's testament to how 'stable' I am in comparison, or if I care more about them than they do about me.

Who Will Catch Me When It's My Turn To Fall?

When I was little, it was my imaginary firends who proved to be the only constant source of comfort.