NARWHALBABE
I have this friend, who I've known for over year and I want to wish her a merry Christmas.
This Christmas gift she asked from me was to write things about her, such as poetic paragraphs to paint a story of her or a poem. Well, I decided to write about how friendship and how much you mean to me.
I stared at the screen. Eyes burning, eyelids sagging, yet I still typed. Internet. The one link to my outlet. Writing and reading, endless; filled to the brim with doubt that overfilled with unpublished chapters. Write, draft, deny, read, repeat. Again, and again until words just filled my mouth no longer making anything, but noise. The never ending circle doomed to rage on and on-the circle stopped, just for a second. Just a mere second. A frozen second. A second I took to reply to a comment on a story with simple words and simple meaning. Yet that simple thing blossomed. A reply was sent- which soon turned into private messaging. Just simple talking, simple jokes, simple friends. Chapters of my stories were read by her, encouragement filling the pages. I remember the pride swelling as I read over the next chapter I had read probably 32 times; and pressed publish. Talking and more talking, simple enough. Until I realized I looked forward to coming home and messaging her. Just messaging, simple enough- back and forth. Until it wasn't so simple. Until I realized something. She, she was more than a simple friend. She was my bro, my teacher, my equal, she was my super, bedazzling, first-rate, sensational, homie.
Lol, I didn't know what word to use, but seriously bro. Merry Christmas.
P.S. I'm sorry it sucks, it doesn't do you justice
YOU ARE READING
A Book Mainly Centered Around a Hot Mess (Me)
RandomHi. I'm hot, and a mess- apparently. You could've probably figured that out on your own though. . . Um, I LIKE GRAVITY (well this off to a great start) Online diary with stuff that is not true, but funny and entertaining. However it might be true b...
