Monday, March 8, 2010

Ode to K



Dear KvF,

Just when I'm annoyed at you because you took my last twenty dollar bill to pay someone else back, you go ahead and do something like this.

Redeem yourself.

I remember being 21 and refusing to be honest about one damn thing in my life. It was a word I did not even want to spell out because it reminded me of the fact that I could not use it in a list of my personal traits. However, even though you may have some kinks to iron out, you survive because of your honesty about yourself and where you are.

I want you to never lose that kid. I want you to know that sometimes your lack of boundaries bothers me. Sometimes your back and forth between C and Z makes me angry. Your lack of funds makes me have anxiety because I want to share mine but I have very little to give. And you should have gotten your grad school stuff together earlier. But damn, you can listen like no other. And you know how to show your love rather than say the words. You think in terms of "us" rather than "I" when it comes to you and I and that makes me feel like we're a little family. I need that. You have a heart. A big one. And sometimes I wonder how many people really have hearts anymore. But I look at you and I stop wondering. A bleeding heart sometimes is yours. But mine bleeds too and we do it together. Then we patch up the hole and keep on truckin'.

You are a friend among acquaintances and you're fantastic at reading other people's phone messages while they're in the other room.

I love you dearly and always will, sister.

1 comment:

  1. This kind of made me mad but at the same time I love it. Thank you my dear for putting up with me. I am sorry I am so poor and have to borrow money sometimes. It is getting better, I have been working like a slave. And for the grad school thing, a big part of me doesn't want to go, hence barely making the deadlines. But all in all, I love you too and appreciate your friendship like no other. I really don't know what I would do these past few months without you.

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