No. 1: Best Friend.
Tart –
I think the best way to start this is to describe you. You are absolutely, totally and completely insane, racist in the just about socially acceptable capacity, verbally abusive and, as of about five months ago, carrying around and growing a baby that I can only hope will be a mini-version of you.
It amuses me that people think we have known each other all our lives, when in fact we have only known each other just shy of three years. It seems like much, much longer, which is only enhanced by the fact that we seem to have no boundaries, talk everyday and tell each other absolutely everything (even more than what some would deem normal). And it is from this sharing every detail (that sometimes even scares me. I think you might know what I mean by this...) that I know that you are quite possibly the best friend I will ever have: everything I have done, everything that any other person would judge me for, and you make jokes, make me laugh and spend far too much time trying to tell me that I am not allowed to feel bad about myself because, really, I am not doing anything wrong. You never let me become down on myself, you never get angry with all of the stupid things that I do, and you always amuse me with your crazy animals and love for Subway and it is for this that I hope you will always be in my life.
When I was getting ready to move away, I was worried that it would be the end of our friendship, that we’d grow apart like I have with so many other people, but luckily that didn’t happen. We managed to be there for each other despite the distance during my many freak outs about reading and essays, you discovering that you were having Bump and both of our many encounters with people that we cannot stand. I think this is a sign that what we have is true friendship.
I am trying to figure out what it is that our friendship is actually based on and if I had to compile a list it would read as follows: bitchiness, food, discussing literature, discussing the levels of insane of your pets and a lot of girl talk. Now, to anyone on the outside, we must come across as awful, vulgar even, but I feel we learn a lot from each other, and the fact that we can be so racist and abusive to each is only made to look worse because we agreed to always be brutally honest. In truth though, it works. I tell you when you’re beginning to sound a bit mental, you tell me that I’m being unreasonable and that I should have more sympathy and we both tell each other when the clothes we’re trying on aren’t the best. I would hate to have a friend who lied to me, who sugar-coated the truth and tried to make out that everything was fine when it wasn’t. I like that fact that I can cry in front of you, that you give me constant reports on the craziness that is your house and that you offer me the truth about the things they don’t tell you about pregnancy. And I like to think that you feel in ways the same about me, that this friendship is something that can be maintained no matter what the distance, and no matter what horrendous mistake I am likely to make next.
As I’ve been writing this I’ve realised us no longer being friends would be like losing a limb. A rather crucial limb, like my right arm (and being right-handed, this would be immensely difficult). The whole point in all of the rambling above is this: you are one of my favourite people I have ever encountered, although if I didn’t know you I would wonder whether someone like you could truly exist. This is not a bad thing, it means you are certainly one of a kind. I am very excited for what is to come next, when you become a mummy and I have to leave the bubble of uni and we have to throw ourselves into the real world and become grown-ups with responsibilities. But its all good, because no matter where we end up, we will always have each other. Through thick and thin, during cheese and even after you broke my fridge...
Love you absolutely loads,
