Being here reminds me that, if only in some small, metaphoric sense, you can always go home again.
It feels like you’ve failed yourself.
It’s not about the words. It’s about making a friend feel good.
No matter what shitty or embarrassing thing happens to me, any one of these ladies will be there to laugh or cry with me.
My mother always told me growing up that it doesn’t matter how many friends you have, but the qualities of one. She said if you’re lucky to have just one friend, consider yourself lucky. And I do; I definitely do.
To other people: *text* Hey! Can we reschedule brunch? I’m so busy today eek sorry!
To your best friend: *text* I’m laying hungover in my bed like a fat sultan and I think I’m gonna throw up so I can’t leave the house and I NEED you.
Every dream you have, has people in the way who hate you. Trust me.
I am guilty of doing it to friends, and friends are guilty of doing it to me.
If it weren’t for them, the Halloween decorations you put up in October would be out until January.
When you say “maybe” to a Facebook event. Like, we all know that’s just a soft “no.” You non-committal bastard.