these two girls are my best friends:

Project Midwest 2.0:

Right now, I am sitting down at my favorite coffee shop in my sleepy little hometown of Hannibal, Missouri. I just dropped my best friend off at a friend of her parents’ house for dinner, and I’ll be picking her up in about an hour or so and we’ll continue in our week of plans.
Yesterday, she arrived at my house at 3:30, crushing me in a hug and reminding me of how much I love when she returns to Hannibal, and how much I love our wonderful ability to pick up our friendship exactly where we left off. It’s almost as though nothing has changed since we were 13-year-olds, even though I know so much has.

I’m loving every minute of having her here. Every joke about Twilight, every Harry Potter reference, every laugh, and every mile driven makes me smile. I can honestly say that I haven’t been this happy in a long time. I don’t remember the last time I went to Quincy just because, and I can be sure I’ve never snuck out of my house at 11:30 pm just to go buy lottery tickets.
Sometimes, I think about how my life would have been different if she would have stayed in Hannibal, instead of moving to Houston. And it would be different. And I’m almost confident in saying that we probably would not be friends right now. I’ve seen friends come into my life in the last five years, and most of them have exited as quickly as they came. But with me and Ruth, it seems as though the distance has brought us closer. We rely on telling each other everything because that’s the only way we have to pass information. That, and I think we’re close because no one expected us to make it very long after she moved.

But we have. We’ve lasted five whole years. Add that to the twelve years that we’ve known each other.

Earlier today we were talking about everything, and it’s hard to believe that the girl I used to talk about Drake & Josh with has grown into this adult, about to head off to college. It’s hard to believe that today we were talking about love, and marriage, and having children. We were talking about what we wanted to do with our lives, and that’s when it sunk in:

I am going to be friends with this girl for the rest of my life.

Seriously, though. If I can be friends with someone for twelve out of eighteen years of my life, what’s going to stop me from making her a lifelong friend? . I want to go to her wedding and I want to be that cool aunt to her children.

I’m so happy right now, you guys. I can’t stop smiling and laughing. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. Be happy for me.

A thank you post:

“One year ago at this exact moment you showed up at my house and stopped me from cutting. You really saved my life that night. Thank you so much, I love you.”

—A text I just sent to Malissie.

a birthday song:

I first knew about Ruth Alice Stokes eleven years ago, when I was seven years old. She was staying at the hotel where both my mother and my grandmother worked while her dad was settling things in Hannibal, Missouri as they prepared to move here from Canada. We were introduced by my Grandmother, in her desperate attempt to make friends for me. And at first, we clicked. Kind of.

When she officially moved to Hannibal, she lived exactly two houses down the road from my Grandma, a place where I spent a lot of my time. We weren’t the best of friends, but we spent a lot of time at her house, playing like eight year olds do. Often, we joke about a time when she spent the night at my house. The exact details of this escape me. But I do remember playing with my Barbie ferris wheel, and Ruth being amazed with my Tarzan straw that made noise when you used it.

Unfortunately, the two of us went to separate elementary schools, so we drifted apart. But then in seventh grade, we were reintroduced. Her locker was three down from mine (55 to my 52) and we quickly bonded over having P.E. first block, then followed by Advanced Math even though neither of us really enjoyed math. It wasn’t long after the first day of school that I started going to her house every day after school to do “Math Homework” (an activity that, in reality, was usually spent with her blasting the music that I now love, and us browsing Yahoo Messenger). Seventh Grade year was spent with how infamous inside jokes. Including (but not limited to): British Accent Day, long talks about fingernail polish, the Flamingo project, STEALING MY FUCKING COUGH DROPS, etc.

By the summer between seventh and eighth grade, we were inseperable. We did EVERYTHING together, including our job as tour guides at Rockcliffe Mansion. But, only two months into our eighth grade year, she moved 1000 miles away to Houston, Texas.

Since then, our friendship has been rocky. We’ve talked, fought, not spoken, and been reunited. No matter what, she’s my best friend. And when she comes back to Hannibal, it’s always as though our friendship was never interrupted.

And I guess what I’m trying to say here is,

HAPPY EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY, RUTH ALICE STOKES. I LOVE YOU VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY MUCH, AND I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU IN EIGHTEEN DAYS. HERE’S TO MATCHING SUVS AND GROWING OLD TOGETHER. YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, AND CONGRATS ON BEING OFFICIALLY “HOT LEGAL ASS”

a friendship song:

“you asked me earlier today what our friendship would be like now if i hadn’t moved away. I don’t know if we’d still be friends. but I do know that after losing your friendship, and gaining it back, I appreciate you now more than I ever could have. thank you for putting up with all of my crazy shit throughout the years and never giving up on me. you’re the best friend I’ll ever have.”

—Ruth Stokes

Dear you:

One year ago tonight I was sitting on the floor of your living room, sunburnt and physically exhausted, but my adrenaline was still pumping. I was rushing my words and trying to get everything that had happened that day out to you and your boyfriend. even though I knew you probably didn’t care because you’d never been to a concert. So Warped Tour didn’t mean much to you. Neither did the idea of seeing your favorite bands. You couldn’t understand the way that it felt for me to be in the crowds, watching the musicians that put me into a restless sleep every night do their thing up on stage. But you listened anyway, you know. You listened because you cared about me. Because you, at that point in time, would probably have done anything for me.
One year later and I still wonder if it’s because you felt sorry for me. I hope to God it wasn’t. You both meant so much to me. Both You and Him. You were the people I went to when I couldn’t breathe, the people I imed when the anxiety and bad feelings were making it impossible to close my eyes or unclench my fists. I could tell you anything, and you listened. You may not have understood what I felt like, but you tried so hard to fix it for me. And lastly, it was you two that saved my life.

You gave me hope. People to turn to when no one else would believe me. And on July 10th, 2008, you were the people that helped me decide that I needed help. You were the reasons I checked myself into the hospital. You were the reasons I started to feel better. You were my support system. You weren’t the only people that made me get better, and my god you weren’t the most important people either. But you were my columns. You were the physical things that held me up.

Now, it’s a year later and we don’t talk anymore. You don’t answer my texts, and more than half the time you don’t answer when I im you. I miss you both more than you could ever imagine. I miss talking to you. I miss telling you things. I miss laughing with you and making up stupid inside jokes.

More than anything though, I just wish I had my best friends back.