My Friend

I bought my first pack because I was angry with her. I don’t remember why, exactly. I’m sure it was something dumb. It always was. But I was angry, and I knew my buying a pack of cigarettes would upset her.


“You can have this one, but just this one. And you’re only allowed to smoke with me.”
She made me promise, and I did.

A good friend cares about things like this. She cares about not passing along her bad habits, and forgives you when you succumb to your own.

If you’re lucky, you’ll find a good one, maybe just one in your entire lifetime, who manages to be the perfect combination of therapist, mother, big sister, and crack spirit guide. She knows all of your secrets because they are easy to tell her.

She means it when she tells you that your gray hair isn’t as big of a deal as you make it, that you’re being a jerk when you are, and that you actually do deserve better. And she knows it’ll be at least three years before you figure it out for yourself. And when you do, you’ll laugh, the two of you, and she’ll forgive you for not listening the first time because she cares, more than anyone else, really.

At times, your lives ere on the side of absurd, when she wipes your tears all over your face and tells you they’re a natural moisturizer, or when you eat sad-time tacos like they’re a real thing.

In many ways, you’re unstoppable. The two of you are the ultimate Catch Phrase partnership, pulling from years of inside jokes and “Remember that song from that 7th grade Birthday Party mix CD?” moments. Your conversations are impossible to track for anyone else, as they’re placed within a context that took years to construct.

But it’s not your history that keeps you together. It’s not an obligation.¬†You know a friendship like that is worth fighting for, worth preserving.

I bought my first pack of cigarettes because I knew it would upset her, and it did because she cares the most.




I spent (not wasted, originally I had written “wasted”) far too long blogging last night and now I have a very lame, not yet finished english paper in my lap that I need to have somewhat done by tomorrow for editing. So, this is all you guys are getting tonight.

Oh, I just thought of something I meant to write last night but the post already had enough going on. But as I was writing yesterday’s post, something happened that never has before. I remembered my post from a year ago yesterday. I didn’t have to go look it up and see if I posted that day and see how much my life has changed since then, I just knew. It was partially due to the fact that I remember my Valentine’s Day post last year, but I also suddenly had vivid memories of much of what I was feeling throughout that time in my life. Only a year ago, but so very, very different. I remembered exactly what I wrote. I remembered what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

That’s why I do this.
That’s why I crazily write every single day.
That’s why I do this for myself and care about it so much.
It’s not just remembering and recalling, but re-feeling.
From there, I can see and feel real growth, change, and progress as a young person who struggles to find something meaningful in her life.
I wanted to hold onto that girl, give her a sweet hug.
I wanted to tell her that I believe in her.
I wanted to tell her that she’s much stronger than she realizes.

That’s all she really needs.