Tonight I had dinner with my oldest friend. Not oldest as in age, oldest as in the friend I've had the longest (18 years). We met for sushi and I didn't get home until almost 5 hours later. She forgot to pick up her boyfriend because we were chatting up a storm, and he was such a good sport about it that he didn't mind walking home. He's a keeper.
It was so nice to hang out with someone who really knows and understands me. She knows I'm crazy and medicated, she's supportive of all of my therapeutic efforts, and she might hate the soon-to-be ex more than I do. She knew I was losing it long before most other people did, and 18 years later, she's still my friend, concocting wedding cupcake designs and discussing how terrible the world has become with me.
The best part was knowing that no matter what I said or did, I wasn't going to be judged.
Thank you. Here's to 18 more years.
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