From the outside looking in, it probably seems like the saddest friendship story ever- but it's in fact, my favorite one. There's something to be sad when you walk into a room without the one another and people ask you where they are, what happened, if everything's okay. It's because the only times we ever separated were either to shower or pee, and even those things we sometimes did together. Attached at the hip would be the saying, except we were actually attached at the hearts- and you guys will forever have a place in mine.

So we did everything together. We knew everything about each other. Everyone knew it was us, and only us. Perhaps we were too young, too dumb, too dependent. Or perhaps we were simply too close. Our obsession crept its way towards agitation, "can I have like an hour alone?" "did she really call my bowl a plate?" "why the f*ck is your cup back over there when I JUST put it in the sink?" It's hilarious actually, looking back at these little fits, but these little fits took something away that I sincerely wish to get back.

Our agitations led to behind the back talking and siding and disappearing (guilty, I know). And then one day we all made the wrong decision. We chose to separate. We chose to allow our sisterly acts to get the best of us. We chose not to live together. We chose to pause our friendship.

Well it's no surprise that we're older, wiser (a bit), and much more independent now. So what do you say we press play again? Wreak havoc one last time? Maybe I couldn't live with you, but I damn sure know I can't live without you.