I’m grateful to have “found” my best friend three years ago. It sounds weird, but I see our friendships as vaguely ‘magical’–a sort of fate, of meeting a person you can automatically be yourself with. Someone who gives you shit, someone whom you give shit, someone whose flaws you’re aware of and vice versa and accept anyways. Like, that shit is hard to find. It’s already hard to find people you can be utterly comfortable around, whether you’re feeling moody or overly excitable or incredibly confused. But to find someone whose hair you’ll get into, who’ll get into your hair, and will still be your best friend, true and through–that’s not common. Someone who’s there, and not just when it’s convenient: well, my, oh, my. You’d be surprised, or maybe not, at how fast people’ll chunk up the deuces when things get real. Or unpleasant.
To be frank, I’ve had a whole string of friendships that soured at some point, got weird or complex or messy, that either got better or just weren’t anymore. And sometimes I’ll forget that, but then something’ll remind me. Maybe a dream or conversation or social media post. And then I’m reminded of why I avoid groups of girls, am biased towards one-on-one friendships, am irritated by highly defensive people (maybe the last one’s just a personal thing), etc. The reality of having had weird and muddy and possibly shitty relationships makes me appreciate the current relationships in my life. The ones that are, for lack of better word, clean. With the closest people in my life, it’s easy. There’s unwavering support, no resentment, genuine kindness, and contentedness. We’re not erupting in fights every Thursday or secretly being passive aggressive or what-have-you’s.
Every year I feel like writing a little best friend appreciation post, about how happy I am to have certain people with whom I can be weird or moody or just real around. So that’s this and this is that, my annual spurt of gratitude post.