There are so many things i could say to you. You've always been there for me. You always support me. I don't know what i would do with out you. Your friendship means so much to me, you have no idea. I feel like i dont express that as much as i should. How amazing you are. How wonderful you are. How much your company and advice means to me. How much each of our conversations mean to me. i know it might take a while before you say it back to me, and thats ok. I'll always say it though, I love you. You're my best friend and I couldn't ask for anyone better to be my friend. I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world.

happy national best friend day. :)

Hey bestie, I remember the first time I saw you. You entered the room with a professional, yet swaggered walk. You'd looked around at the table, saw some familiar faces and then proceeded to sit next to them. I want to say you noticed my presence, but I'm sure you didn't think much of it, as I didn't really think much of it either. It wasn't until weeks later, when the words, "Hey, are you busy during this scene?" came so casually out of your mouth, but it had hit me in a way where I'd felt almost unworthy to be spoken to. It wasn't until after the first night when you texted me, "Fun show. And you're fun to work with," that our friendship ignited like a brilliant and unstoppable flame. At first we were simply acquaintances getting to know each other and learn about each other. Then, we began to share secrets and it escalated into a flirtatious rendevouz. It was lustful, secretive, passionate in some ways, and I without a doubt fell for it all. I'd never felt more alive, yet naive, but wanted. But it suddenly all changed. We don't know how, but we know why. And it was for the better. We've become so close in so many ways. Our friendship has cultivated into one unlike any other. It's beyond unique. We're but two small, unknown, and meaningless individuals in this great, dark universe. But in it a place where we're unknown and meaningless in the grand scheme of things, we're each other's universe. And for me, it's beautiful. You're beautiful. You've taught me so many different lessons in this life that I never imagined learning. You've guided me to pursue and follow the passions of mine that have been locked away for so long; you with your hand in mine, helped me take the key and unlock my passions and joys in life. You're the friend I never pictured having a year ago, but now, I hope you'll be in the picture for as long as we live. So thanks, bestie, for being my bright, shining star, that's in this cold and dark universe.

You dumb fucking slut,

I feel nothing but pure embarassment when someone looks at you, then looks at me, then looks back at you. I would rather throatfuck a sword fish than like your instagram post, just to avoid the shame of my name being associated with yours. There is no illness, no social plague, no cancer, no conflict, that I would want to cure and remedy more than the parasite that just so happens to be you.

I blocked you on every social media platform I have ever put my email into, yet I cannot stop the harassment of your friendships and bullfuckery. I am unqualified too possessownership of a firearm, and so that is the sole, singular, only reason why I have not yet eliminated your disgraceful gummy vitamin existence from the face of the dying planet. If I had a gun loaded with three bullets in a room stuck with you, I would shoot myself in the nose twice, per nostril.

If I could ever have the pleasure of descending into the depths of hell, there would be two of you at a fancy dinner table, and forever would last three hours, one per brain cell I have left

to kill since I met you. You are more annoying than the white scuff on my black AF1s and you have the personality of watered down, unsweetened tea. You might as well have been water, but you're even more useless the more you fucking try to have substance.

The only redeeming quality you have ever possessed is not being my fermented ketchup dealer, but being the only form of birth control and romance repellent that is 100.2% effective, since I cannot afford birth control because while it is free, it can be illegal. Besides your boot licking, flower slurping, handsoap diluting, warm lettuce eating, gorilla glue drinking, crunchy cookie loving, piano playing, soot sniffing, privacy invading, styrofoam squeaking, well done steak of an existence, the worst personality trait you have is having the fucking audacity to have a normal name, spelled normally, but pronounced

ah-nay-ee.

Open your eyes wide and read my words, ANNE:

Happy Birthday whorè.

Sincerely,