I love writing days, and writing days with friends (even unproductive writing days) are life.
I love your sticky-uppy hair and your sunglasses, even though they hide your pretty eyes. I love that you never carry a bag and you just walk around permanently juggling your things. I love how funny it is when you unexpectedly say something shocking because you seem so innocent. I love how much you fangirl over stuff that I love too. I love that we share so much introvert awkwardness and we just understand. I love you.
I love your pickpocket-taunting lanyard. I love your trippy run-on sentences and how you digress and rant and philosophize all in the same sentence, a sentence that can go on for a paragraph a page long. I love your weird sense of humor and your elaborate metaphors and obscure references. I love how heartbreaking your favorite stories are because you don’t just like the things that are beautiful, you like the things that mean something. I love you.
I love your glorious blond hair and your big blue eyes. I love how warm and soft you are and how nice your hugs are. I love the way you ship my characters. I love how many inside jokes we have and how we can say one word to each other and dissolve into hysterical laughter. I love that we always have more to talk about. I love that I can wear sweatpants and glasses around you without feeling butch and boring. I love how we fit together and how I feel around you. I love you.
I love how you burst into impromptu concerts together and I don’t know any of the lyrics even though I somehow brought up the song. I love how much you love my stories and how invested you are in my characters. I love how much you like my family. I love how comfortable you are around me. I love you.
Thank you for being my friends.