Open Letter to One of My Best Friends on Her Birthday

So.

I’m not even sure where to begin this letter really.

Can I start off by saying that you are fuckin’ amazing?

Because you are.

And just in case no one ever tells you that, I’m telling you.

Many people don’t really appreciate you as much as they should.

I hope that I’m not one of those people.

Because I love you.

Love.

Like… if there were such a thing as soul mates, you may actually be mine.

We weren’t even supposed to be friends, really. And if it weren’t for me not having anywhere to live senior year of college and absolutely scrambling for roommates, I’m not sure if I even would have met you.

Thanks for taking me in by the way. I will love you forever for that because I don’t know where I would’ve lived senior year and that would’ve sucked. I’ve told you this before, but when I told people who I’d be living with senior year I got a myriad of responses that pretty much mirrored the following:

She’s cool.

She’s cool.

Oh her? …..
(Speaking of you)

Yeah….

She’s… different.

You two may not get along.”

And I thought: Awesome! This is gonna be a fuckin’ great Senior Year!

But oh how wrong they were about you. (I find that many people aren’t good judges of character at times anyway, myself included)

You. Get me.

Like really get me. Who else can I call when my depression is kicking my ass and I just need to cry without hearing “it will get better” or some bizarre deadly silence which reeks of pity.

You.

You do not tell me stupid shit in an effort to try and make me feel better (because you know that with depression sometimes, there is no feeling better) and in fact sometimes you tell me that the day just may be a shitty one and I can have a do over tomorrow.  And you listen to me cry and we share stories about how being depressed totally sucks. We talk about what meds I’m on (if I’m on any) and you share your experiences with anti-depressants with me and we concede that depression totally sucks and maybe being off meds can be better than being on meds (or not…).

You taught me about dance parties. And not the “oh my God that dude is so cute, let me pull out my best dance moves so he doesn’t think I’m a total loser and maybe he’ll even try to come dance with me” kind of dancing but the “there really is no method to this madness and I am just moving my body to the beat and hopefully I don’t make myself dizzy from being so insanely crazy” kind of dancing.

Those dance parties?

Can really turn a day around for me. I think… Should I admit this? I think I may have lost some of my actual rhythm because I have so many dance parties. When I remove the seriousness from dancing, my troubles just all seem to seep out of my toes.

Speaking of music. You know how much I thoroughly enjoy playing music disturbingly loud? Like I may need a hearing aid before I turn 40 loud? I love that you love that too. I love that when getting in your car, I always knew there would be three things- singing, loud music and windows down.

This may totally be TMI, but you are so amazing for accepting me as I am. Sometimes, I have flatulence issues and instead of making me feel embarrassed about it- you simply opened your 3 drawer storage in your room and offered me anti-gas pills. Seriously? You had me at hello.

You really know how to step up. Wherever, whenever.

Remember that time that about 8 zillion things needed to be done for my wedding/bachelorette party/reception how you stepped in? Especially right before the reception when shit hit the fan and tempers were flaring amongst relatives for no damn good reason? Yeah. You were Queen of crisis management. Thanks for that.

Remember that time that I was unemployed for damn near 2 years? How you just wanted to make sure that I, personally had what I needed- just for me? Not for bills, not for the baby, just for me?

You didn’t have to do that.

At all.

And that? To this day. Means so much to me and I carry what you sent me around in my wallet as a reminder of how amazing you are. I can repay you monetarily, but you will never truly understand what that meant to me.

Period.

You give great advice. The tough advice. The smart advice. The “that’s what I needed to hear at this moment” advice. The “I already knew the answer to that question, but I needed to hear it from someone else” advice. I’m not even sure if I give good advice ever. I hope I do, otherwise I’m just talkin’ outta my ass.

I think that every friend serves a purpose in my life. I have a friend that’s great for this and a friend that’s great for that and another friend great for that. I keep my true friend circle small and close and I’m so glad that you’re in it. You’re like family girl.

This letter is just a “Happy Birthday, I’m so glad you were born” letter.

Enjoy your day.

You deserve it.

And don’t take anyone’s shit today- you know, because it’s your birthday.

Just tell ‘em Fuck you, I’m Awesome… oh, and it’s my birthday.

And if you ever need a left arm, or a kidney, or plasma- whatever. Call me.

You know why? Because I am truly convinced that you would do the same for me.

I love you!

- Dee

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