This other weekend I was thinking about my true friends. The ones that would call your house even though they know your parents are home, and they know that talking to them, as a guy that isn't your boyfriend, would be awkward. The kind of friends that immediately scoot over their chairs when you come to sit down, so as to make room, even though they thought you would be there so much earlier, with a group of your own friends. The friends where you can talk about all the ugly things in life and you can rant. Friends that make the 'stop talking' face when someone comes up behind you that you just started talking about. True friends, that make sure you know if you have a game or not and offer to cover your work, even though you're pretty sure you don't actually have a game. Or just, those people that you talk about music with, and popular culture, and those cliche topics of drama and love lifes and stuff. They are frinds.
Friends that don't mind if you stick mustaches on their car.
Pseudo friends that know that if they were going to your prom, then you would be part of that group that all hangs out together beforehand.
Friends that give back massages.
Friends that talk all night with you.
The friends that even though you don't see them, they know that you want the best for them, and they understand when you don't have anything to say for the type of situation they are in except "I'm so very sorry..."
People that know when you listen to Johnny Cash on repeat it is almost always a bad thing.
People that wanted you to go to the movies with their friends, even if it would mean taunting. And jeering.
The type of people that don't care if you yell at them or not. They just care about you.
Friendly type people.
Ones that understand that when they diss your hair and you say back "FUCK you too"
they really shouldn't take it the wrong way
you're just having a bad day
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
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