Last week I got the following text:
“You are officially my ‘In Case of Emergency’ contact.”
“I’m officially you’re person? Awwwwww! I love you, too.”
For some reason, being her person really touched me. When you fill out these arbitrary forms, you expect to put your mom, your sister, or even your boyfriend. She put me. Me.
I have no blood relation to her, nor any by marriage. We didn’t grow up together, or go to the same school and even now, we don’t even live close to each other. Hell, we don’t even share the same area code, or the same shoe size.
What we do share is 4 years of treasured memories — from raunchy conversations over cheesy garlic bread at lunch, to globe trotting and collecting foreign currency. We share the same dress size and food cravings; Shit, we INVENTED Toyose Tuesday.
What we have is a friendship that proves MY LINE STAYS THICK… thick enough for me to be her person.
Love you, NBF. I’ll be your person, H.E.A.