A Love Letter To The Best Friends I Found In Adulthood

Paolo Raeli
Paolo Raeli

You were not easy to find. Maybe I met you in high school. Maybe college. Maybe we fell into friendship-love after we entered the real world. But wherever I was lucky enough to find you, you’re not just my high school bestie anymore, or my college roommate, or my work spouse. You’re one of my soulmates, one that I’m so happy I never lost in my adolescent years, or (if this is a budding, twenty-something friendship-love) one that I’m so happy that I stumbled upon in adulthood. You’re one of the bright spots in my life, one of the reasons why I laugh stupidly on the train while I’m thinking about something silly we did last weekend, one of the people that makes my heart feel safe, regardless of my current circumstances, because I know that you will be there for me, always.

You’re a sounding board and an inspiration. You make me feel like I can handle being an adult, while also making me feel like I could revert back to my immature, ten-year-old self at any moment and be welcomed with open arms, because we’ve cultivated a friendship of lightness, acceptance, joy, and pure idiocy in the best way.

You remind me that I can feel love in all sorts of ways. There’s the love I have for my family, which I’ve felt since before I remember and which will always be a part of me. There’s romantic love, which is both the sweetest and the scariest thing I think I’ll ever experience. And then there’s the love I have for you – something that feels both light and important, sturdy and simple, silly and loyal.

My love for you comes in quite ordinary moments. Sitting at a group dinner and feeling that I have a lot to learn from you and my other soulmates, that I have the freedom to share things without worrying about judgement, that I could practically guess what every one of you was going to order, because our bonds range from sharing our deepest humiliations all the way down to what we like more between macaroni and cheese or hot wings. My love for you comes in the blissful comfort of an uber ride together, in which we might excitedly and obnoxiously chat from the moment we get in to the moment we get out, or one in which we’ve both had a long day and can share a quiet ride home from the bar without feeling like we need to say anything to fill the silence.

My love for you comes from being able to respond to half the texts you send me with a toilet emoji. My love for you comes from the moment we’re sitting at a bar together and we share a twinkling look that wordlessly acknowledges how drunk we are probably going to get tonight. My love for you comes when I’m stressed out with work, or I’m hungover, or I’ve had an all-around shitty day, and I immediately feel better just from texting you the word “help” – even just telling you I’m struggling makes me feel a sense of relief, because I know you’ll do anything to make me feel better, just as I would for you.

You’re a different kind of soulmate, but I wouldn’t get through adulthood without you. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

I’m a staff writer for Thought Catalog. I like comedy and improv. I live in Chicago. My Uber rating is just okay.

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