One minute, I'm fine and happy and excited, and the next I want to tear my head from my shoulders. I guess I'm just lucky that I have some people who care enough to make sure I don't self-destruct.
I love my friends.
I love the memories we have together.
I love the memories that are yet to come.
I don't care what Ches says about me not having time for her in September. I'll be at a loss if I don't see her. I don't care if I have to get 1 or 9 buses and trams to come and see her, I will still do it. She's my best friend - the only person that understands me (because, let's face it, I don't understand myself!). I'd walk through hell and back to make her happy, and I don't give a shit if you think I mean that in a more than friends way. She knows how special she is to me.
It's thanks to her I'm still breathing this morning.
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