It's been a whole month today. One month, without you. It's been a shitty fucking month.
This month, I found out that you are a whole lot more sentimental then you let on. You had cards and letters from when we were 18. I threw mine away eons ago. I hate clutter. I also expected you to last as long as me, so I didn't see the point in holding on to them. I found the True Love perfume box last night and smiled about it.
I started reading some of the letters I wrote to you, but honestly got bored. Thank-you for reading through that crap. No one really thanks friends, for the times we bore them to tears. Yet they still stick around. Thank-you for reading that meaningless drivel and still sticking on in my life.
There are other things I want to thank you about, like the way in which you trusted me. We had this strange conversation once, where I told you about this friend of mine, who didn't trust me around her partner. I remember you calling that girl, "a true idiot". For moments like that, small little thing that mean so much, I thank you.
I want to thank-you for all the times you listened to my dad's insane rambling about religion. And for never bringing it up again. Never embarrassing me about it.
I thank you for being in my life. For knowing when to give me a ear, and when to tell me to get a grip. If you were around now, would you ask me to get a grip?
The last words you said to me were, I love you. Thank you for that.
Thank you for upgrading me to best friend status, in 8th grade, in a True Confessions book.
If I had to do it all over again, knowing what I know, knowing how much pain you would end up causing me, I'd still pick you. I hope you'd pick me too.
This month, I found out that you are a whole lot more sentimental then you let on. You had cards and letters from when we were 18. I threw mine away eons ago. I hate clutter. I also expected you to last as long as me, so I didn't see the point in holding on to them. I found the True Love perfume box last night and smiled about it.
I started reading some of the letters I wrote to you, but honestly got bored. Thank-you for reading through that crap. No one really thanks friends, for the times we bore them to tears. Yet they still stick around. Thank-you for reading that meaningless drivel and still sticking on in my life.
There are other things I want to thank you about, like the way in which you trusted me. We had this strange conversation once, where I told you about this friend of mine, who didn't trust me around her partner. I remember you calling that girl, "a true idiot". For moments like that, small little thing that mean so much, I thank you.
I want to thank-you for all the times you listened to my dad's insane rambling about religion. And for never bringing it up again. Never embarrassing me about it.
I thank you for being in my life. For knowing when to give me a ear, and when to tell me to get a grip. If you were around now, would you ask me to get a grip?
The last words you said to me were, I love you. Thank you for that.
Thank you for upgrading me to best friend status, in 8th grade, in a True Confessions book.
If I had to do it all over again, knowing what I know, knowing how much pain you would end up causing me, I'd still pick you. I hope you'd pick me too.
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