We were having a conversation about friends and I realised how lucky I am to be called someone’s, anyone’s friend.

I feel blessed to have friends who care. To know that there’s someone out there who’d listen to me when I’ve got something to tell them. It’s the kind of friend who’d allow me to tell what I want and keep the rest to myself, but one who’d know what I haven’t told anyway. It’s the kind of person who relies on me for pinnacles in their lives and trusts me with things that they’re not advised to trust anyone with. One who is not afraid to call me by names that will never belong to me and one who calls me an idiot when I call them with names that truly belong to them. One who is truthful, one who tells me what I need to hear and what I don’t. I can tell them anything I want to and when I don’t speak they’d be confident when they say they will find out. One who doesn’t have to ask me to tell anything but one who I tell everything to. To share stories about imaginary friends and speaking to inanimate objects and one who doesn’t laugh when I tell them that I’ve been just as stupid as they’ve been. One who respects my opinions but questions them anyway. One who’d never speculate things that can’t be true. I feel proud to be called “friend” by someone who thinks so much like me that we say the same names at the same time. One who’d read their text messages to me without hesitation. One who’d listen to me when I read my text messages. One who never hesitates to tease me. One who knows just too well when to laugh, when to be sad and when just to be silent. I’ve got friends with who I’ve walked three stories without speaking a word. Just me, just them… heavy backpacks and not a single word. A friend who can speak through silence and to know I can comfort them with no words. Friends who I think are true friends for real. Friends who trust their back with me. Friend, Thank you.


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