We were there, together, and in the next room I could hear that monitor beeping. Keeping track of another heart’s beat and giving enduring, solid proof of our own.
Andrea raised her hand. “This is the hand that slapped Aunt B.
The things I call crisis and all the things that were coming after me are all coming to serve the purpose of God in my life.
Psyche you out?” I repeat. “I’m your FRIEND. I wouldn’t do that.”
He doesn’t say anything. I can tell he doesn’t believe me-not quite.
Friends are a wonderful thing. They won’t make you feel like a nothing.
You had to know a person well to make them laugh like that.
At one point in time, every friend was a stranger. Love changed that.
Noel: A lot of people see friends as something you have on Twitter or Facebook or wherever. If someone wants to read your updates and you want to read their updates, then you’re friends. You don’t ever have to see each other. But that seems like a stupid definition to me.
Noel: Although on the other hand, rethink. Maybe a friend is someone who wants your updates. Even if they’re boring. Or sad. Or annoyingly cutesy. A friend says, “Sign me up for your boring crap, yes indeed
People don’t gotta like the same stuff. If they did, life would be pretty boring.
He was everything I needed because his entire character had been molded by my deepest wants and desires. He was my rock when I cried, my playmate when I laughed, and my hero when I needed to imagine that one existed for me.