It doesn’t matter the sex of your friend, the race, the background, the history, the time frame, or even the age—a best friend is a best friend because of the way you shape and mold and blend into one another’s lives.
When you were younger everything felt good and it felt safe, like you’d never have to think about living a day without each other. You thought you’d be inseparable, you naïvely thought things would never change, but maybe that’s just because you tried so hard to block out the reality you knew was coming.
You are the backbone to all of the experiences I’ve had.
You’ve been there for all of the good and all of the bad,
but I don’t nearly spend enough time composing literature about you.
Here’s to the friends who make me believe in humanity again after I’ve kept the wrong crowd for too long.
A best friend is literally everything—a shoulder to cry on, an ear to vent to, a pair of eyes to confirm that your outfit is just right, and the person you rely on to hate your ex more than you…
We can puff up our social network lists, collecting friends like trading cards all we want. In the end, few of those people really matter.
I hope that one day you are successful and kind. That you get to where you want to be and that you don’t hurt others in the process. I hope that you do not allow yourself to be a bitter failure that seeks solace in the spiteful things she speaks about others.
A dream can break your heart.
Your real friends are not the ones who shatter you. They are the ones that help you pick up your broken parts and stitch them back together. They are your wolf pack who growl at anyone who tries to eat you alive. They are your sisters by choice, and your sisters forever.
I’m sending you a winged eyeliner tutorial. Truthfully, I should’ve done this a long time ago.