Two months to the day since I last posted. During this time, I have gotten sick, seen many movies, witness heartbreak, reestablished friendships, experimented with J-Dawgs sauce, reignited passion for music, bought a few books, and wondered where the two months went.
Two months . . . what do I have to say for myself?
I say . . . I have great friends.
It sounds trite, I know, but I find it miraculous. I haven't always had great friends, you see, and I am constantly surprised when my friends don't disappoint me. Call me a cynic, a pessimist, a drama queen, or even a teddy bear full of needles, but it's true.
It's not that I choose bad friends. I just choose flawed friends, and while generally flaws are what make a person lovable, I have a history of choosing friends with destructive flaws. I've had friends just use me to cover up how much time they've spent with their boyfriends. I've had friends ignore me for weeks at a time until they face crisis and need to talk. I've had friends steal from me. I've had friends slowly tear me down until I have no confidence left. I've had friends abruptly stop talking to me.
I'm not trying to throw a pity party. I've had good friends, too! And I was no picnic for a few years there. I was plenty messed up, which is probably why I surrounded myself with companions even more screwed up than me.
I share these examples to punctuate my point: I have great friends.
I have friends who make me homemade soup when I'm sick. I have friends who get up and drive out to my house in the morning to give me a ride if I miss my bus. I have friends that feed me when I'm too broke to eat. I have friends that drive miles and miles to see me. I have friends who love my flaws. I have friends who listen to my emotional freak-outs and accept them.
Great friends, people. Great friends.
