As you may know, fanfiction used to be a huge part of my life. Despite its bad rep, I have never been ashamed of being a fanfiction writer. Part of it is because I met someone who I’ve been friends with for eight years now.
We hit it off over Jackie Chan, for what reason, I have no idea. We had jetpacks and we used to send each other “glomps” like the cool teenagers that we were. Before Skype, before Facebook, before smartphones, we managed to connect with each other through only words on MSN. And fucking nudges (don’t think I’ve forgotten because I haven’t. I could have died by falling off my chair).
It’s likely hard for people to believe that in this day and age, we’ve only Skyped each other once and only recently started talking to each other on the phone. But I don’t really think that’s strange. Everybody has that one friendship that they just can’t quite explain to people, and this one of mine is one of those.
Our relationship is like drip coffee in the world of K-cups. Although we’ve always confided in each other, I feel that we’re still getting to know each other slowly. I didn’t know until last year, probably, that she doesn’t like sushi or cheesecake. I didn’t know how tall she was or her favorite colors. That sounds weird until you compare our friendship to others I’ve had, where I memorized their favorite foods and colors and birthdays and everything about them, but only to receive very little in return. I tried my best to be a good friend to them but those “friendships” are now one with the dust. Friendships are never about favorites, but about support.
We don’t have the luxury of spending so much time together that we’ve memorized each other’s wardrobes. We don’t have the power to comfort each other with a pizza party and tubs of ice cream like in those chick flicks. What we have are just words. But it is precisely with this friend that I felt again and again, the importance of words. In happy times she tells me that she is happy for me. In sad times she sends me virtual hugs. In difficult times she listens to me and supports me, and she believes in me so effortlessly that I start to wonder if she’s just crazy.
In comparison to her patient, generous, and compassionate self, I am just a bratty child. To me, she is a change-inspiring kind of beautiful. We are not perfect people, but how I wish I could have just a tenth of her giving personality.
Today is her 22nd birthday, and I am so happy to say that in 3 months and 11 days, I’ll be meeting her for the first time in a foreign land. We’ll be making new, physical memories with one another and that sounds more insane the more I think about it. Here’s to hoping we don’t end up hating and killing each other LOL