Tuesday, April 26, 2011

These are my people.


These are some of my best friends, my people. The ones I call when my world falls apart and the ones that remind me that I am stronger than I think I am.

These are the ones that make me laugh so hard I'm afraid unmentionable liquids will shoot out of my nose and that I may never look at something the same way again.

They are the ones that will get an inside story a split second after it has occurred and either carry it with them to their grave or remind me of it,every single time they can, of that one time I...

They are my people, my emergency contact in a foreign land and my surrogate family on a holiday far away from home.

They are my strongest supporters and my biggest opponents when I am about to do something stupid. They are brave, and they are fighters. They will find the voice I don't have and speak the words I can't.

They will take your drunk sorry ass home, hold your hair back as you pray for mercy, and they will change you into your pjs and leave water and Tylenol on your bedstand for when you hate God, the world, yourself and everything in between the next morning.

They are the ones that will knock some sense into your head but hear you out as you're bitching about the catastrophe of the day. They will listen to your dreams but more than that, they will believe in it too. And when you can't, or when you're scared and unsure, they will remind you that you are always, always stronger than you think you are.

They embrace my pathetic sense of direction and send me text messages or talk to the cab driver when I am lost and freaking out in the big city.

They will laugh at my sometimes neurotic OCD tendencies yet let me have the seat by the wall and love me even as I am freaking out because ohmylord the grand order of things has been disturbed.

These are my friends, this is the family I choose, and these are my people.

Sent from my iPhone