Here’s to the friends who see our messy parts, and love us still.

Here’s to the friends who see our messy homes, and don’t care. They don’t judge us for not having a Magnolia worthy living space. They don’t pay attention to the fact that we haven’t dusted in two weeks, or still have a pile of clean laundry on the couch, or dirty dishes in the sink. They don’t care about any of that – what they want to do is sit and talk. They want to know how we are, they want to share how they are, too. The conversation is more important than the organization – that’s what matters, that’s what counts.

Here’s to the friends who see our messy parts, and love us still.

Here’s to the friends who see us with hair that hasn’t been washed in a week, sweatpants leggings that have holes in them, no make up on, and socks that don’t match. They don’t care that we aren’t picture perfect ready. They don’t care that we just decided to forgo jeans for the day. What they care about is that you showed up for the impromptu girls night on the couch. That’s what matters. That’s what counts.

Here’s to the friends who see our messy parts, and love us still.

Here’s to the friends who see us cry ugly tears, and give us a hug anyway, even though snot and tears and mascara will probably get all over their clothes. They don’t care about the damn shirt. They care about being there for you when you’re falling apart. They care about being there for you to cry on – they want you to know that you are not alone and that you are loved. These are the friends who see us unhinged and talk us through it. These are the friends who listen when we need to cry or yell or scream – and know the words we need to hear to soothe our troubles.

Here’s to the friends who see our messy parts, and love us still. They know that friendship isn’t just about sparkly bits of success – it’s about the lows and the highs, and being there for each peak and each valley – that’s what lasts, that’s what counts.