I Guess You're The Moon

I had a whole post written about you. About things I didn't understand about you, about things I couldn't handle about you...but I deleted it. Because I remembered how much I love you.

I love that you steal everything I let you borrow. I know it's cause you're too lazy to give it back, but something about my crap at your house comforts me. It's like I always have a home there.

I love that your mom has strong opinions about me but loves me anyway. (I think she loves me anyway.) It's almost like I'm her daughter. And though you say I'm Kimmy Gibler, c'mon. What would the Full House be without Kimmy? Exactly.

I love that you've adapted my laugh. I love that you don't like brownies, and I don't like Cup of Noodles, but we both like that one restaurant on State and we constantly talk about our lives there like it's the Central Perk. I love how after about two weeks of knowing me you called me Phoebe, and we still don't know if you're Rachel or Monica, but that didn't stop us from staying up until two watching Friends.

I love that she wants what we have, but what we have is ours. I love that this sounds like a post to my boyfriend, but the closest thing I ever had to a boyfriend was seventh grade, and thank heavens that's over. I love that we were almost forced to be best friends, but that doesn't mean I would change anything that's ever happened to us.

I guess all of this makes you the moon because I will never understand you, but I sure do love ya. They say when there's a full moon that people act more emotional and strange, which is unfortunate, because they're my favorite. You're my full moon. You drive me crazy, but every memory we have is so dang beautiful, it's worth every breakdown, every frustration, every deep black pit that we thought I'd never get out of.

Thanks for being my moon.