Real Friendships

I long for real friendships. The kind of friends that you can sit in silence with and not feel uncomfortable. The kind of friends you can argue in front of because you’re just an extended member of the family. The kind of friends you know the majority of the time are going to be up for one of your random adventures – even if that adventure could potentially result in jail time. The kind of friends you can just fall apart with and show up at their door looking like a batshit crazy person with mascara running down your face and they’re like, you know, it’s cool – let’s have wine and watch B-rated movies.

We have to find a way to be more connected – to work harder at reaching each other in an authentic, gritty, “I want to be in your life and I want you in mine” kind of way. We have to acknowledge our need for each other. We have to name it. We’re too afraid to ask for help. We’re too stubborn to admit we aren’t enough. But we can’t sustain life this way. And I don’t believe we were meant to.