day 1, to my best friend

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Day 1. Your Best Friend

Rachel,

You knew this was coming, and I hesitate. I don't know where to begin without becoming sentimental. When you started talking to me (in the "Motivational Psychology" class that motivated me to drop the class and the psychology major), I wondered–Why me? What does she see in me that could possibly make her want to be friends with me?

You breathed cool. I felt insecure, and I sucked as a friend in the beginning. I hope I've made up for it.

Living with you for two years was a blessing. Having you take the pictures for my wedding was a favor–and a joy–that I'll never thank you enough for. Knowing that we won't live together again–that our lives are in opposite directions and coasts–is heartbreaking. Then I remember. We've never shied away from a challenge. We conquer them. With grace determination and loud opinions.

I've given my mistakes to you. I've done the best I could to help you recover, though I worry it was never enough. I worry there was a part of myself that I wasn't giving. You're the voice I want to put inside my head, the one that reminds me we're forgiven–we need to forgive ourselves. We need to live.

You taught and will teach me so much. I stole your music. I shared your political attitude. I gave you a bit of my domestic flare. I never thought about how crappy our faucets looked until you scrubbed them. I never would have let myself eat so much bad food without trying to throw it up if you hadn't showed me how to just enjoy it–to live in a body, to let a body be what it is.

I love our obnoxious Twitter relationship. I love thinking of you in New York. I love how inspired I feel to return to the typeface-loving, tattoo-obsessed, design-needing side of my brain. I love that you're there, that you remind me not to apologize for the e-mails I send, that I can always end a bad day by sending you a picture related to kittens or turtles or Star Wars.

I love you; I love us. I want us We need to retire to Paris, where our spirits and our ideas were born. I'm glad you called me out, let me in and made me be friends with you. You knew from the beginning that I could easily flake out on it, had a tendency to get overwhelmed by things. You kept me anyway. You kept me out of that apartment with the Holocaust shower (though now I wonder how different our life would have been). You saved many parts of me.

Love,
Meg

P.S. It's growing! We're like a chain letter, but with good writing and without curses. Read Ashley's Sierra's and Tiffany's letters. I met both of these ladies at Ball State, and I feel really lucky to have their blogging and writing to help inspire me to be better.

Enjoy what you're reading? I'd love to know that we're on track. Click Follow on the right side of the screen to stick with us.

1 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sorry, I didn't see this until today, so I'm not sure when you posted it.

This means so much to me. I had no idea you felt this way about a lot of things, but it's really important to me that I've made an impact (well, a good one at least ;).

Sometimes, even though I know how I see things, I never really know how other people see me and how other people react to the things I do, both good & bad. But I see people (if I decide I really want to look) for who they really are, and that's why I kept you around. ;) I think it's really funny that we have the exact same memory of when we first met, but in reverse.

I don't remember first talking to you, I remember you first inviting me to lunch with your friends even though I didn't even know you at all and I was relieved to be socializing outside the circle I was getting really tired of. Jesus christ, we sound like a couple of 3rd grade schoolgirls.

Anyways, you mean a lot to me. I know we'll keep evolving as a unit, even if it means we have to include Joe sometimes. ;) I would respond more to all of this, but I'll be writing my own set of letters soon, so I'll wait.

Love you!

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