Something from my current read…
As old friends, we were unguarded and revealed our inner feelings freely. Old friends have no need to display artificial selves; you can accept them as they are and share your true self with them. He was such a friend for me. He told me everything that had happened over the past decade, talking until he reached his recent worries.
I remembered that he had always been anxious, even with nothing in particular to be anxious about. He told me that his anxiety had gotten worse recently, and to stave it off, he had been working hard.
Even if we never achieve anything big or significant, our existence alone is already enough.