To the best friend.

Dear Best Friend,

For a semi cheesy person who has a way with words, there could be a million ways I could begin this letter. But right now, I'm just going to stick with this. 

In a life time, out of about seven billion people, you might meet a hundred thousand people, if you are the average Joe. Family, colleagues, the mail man and annoying third cousins included. Post puberty, one is constantly hounded with being on the lookout for a mate, the one they can share a life and eventually ride into the happy sunsets with. But ever since play school, from the time the kid with freckles offered his jelly sandwich, you begin to feel a certain kind of affinity. That's a very fancy way describing friendship, fine. But there is always one person, you know will never ever give up on you. The one irreplaceable person who isn't anyone else. The coined term for this person is best friend, so I'll just go along with it. You know me well enough to expect an such an intro, yes?

This time I'm not going to be rhetorical about how awesome you are, dear best friend. Which, I'm absolutely affirmative about.

You are the Spongebob to my Patrick, the Batman to my Robin, the Sherlock to my Watson, the Chandler to my Joey, the You to Me.

You are my creep and my super hero.

I might or might not know you inside out. I might or might not have told you about every one of my embarrassing moments. I might, or more often than not, might not have spent hours on end in conversation with you. And yet, you read me like the report of a solved crime. 

I am one lucky excuse for a human being to have you in my life. I seldom display anything remotely saccharine, let alone overtly sentimental and I barely make an effort to make you feel a minuscule of how special you really are. Yet, you continually and fervently cherish me. With you, it really isn't about the give and take. Whether I've spent a week living with/on you or have decided on an MIA for years together, when we meet, you'd probably just say "what's up" and patiently listen to me bicker and watch me drool. And then join in.

You have an uncanny ability to sense when I'm feeling eccentric even if I don't give you the slightest whiff of it. You've seen me at my worst and picked me up when I was down. You endure my vociferous descriptions and psycho-analysis of many a cute people. You let me be and love me for the hopelessly weird person I am, without so much as a doubt as to why you invest all the adore. 

I love how we are pseudo-dramatic and wannabe bizarre. I love how I could be a tree loving midget and you will make me feel like Iron Man. I love how I can tell you absolutely anything and then pretend to run out of conversation. I love how you make me see that life is beyond competition. I love how we have a twisted sense of humor and laugh randomly. I love how I miss you. Not because I don't have good time without you, but because every time I do, I always wish you were with me. I love how you would probably get excited when I call you from prison to bail me out and laugh about how you're too broke. I love how you are one of the probably only two people who read this blog, the other person being me, of course. I love how we have the same taste in music. I know, in life, taste in music counts for no more than pickled cucumbers, but I love how we can chill with brilliant music. Or in mute. I love how we are like parallel railway tracks. Independent yet together till the end. I love how you get me when I say the balderdash that I do. I love how you will let me live in your attic when I am old and jobless. I love how you will poison yourself while eating the crap I make, tell me I'm a horrid cook and encourage me to get better. I love how you always have my back and wouldn't mind getting in a fight if that's what it takes. I love how you are blatantly honest with me to an extent of being rude and I know it's always in the right spirit. I love how I don't have to bother with calling back or hanging up or with the courtesies of a social being when it comes to you. I love how you are protective of me and let me eat the last piece of cake. I love how you put up with all my tantrums and still give me candy in the end. I love how we can have conversations that have no meaning at all and discussions of the life and death too. I love how I don't have to literally say love or any of the equivalents because it's just too mainstream to state the obvious.

Most of all, I love you, for you. Because you are wise and wonderful. You have a zest for learning and living. You are generous, kind and the farthest from fake. I love how you are always up for anything and yet so easy going and laid back. You inspire and push me to be the best version of myself. Yes, I love you. In the very I-don't-care-how-you-smell kind of way. 

I'm not going to apologize for being a retard if I ever was or thank you for hanging on nonetheless. Because to me, you are family. And they may call it best friend, but in my head, I hear soul mate.

So, I guess that's that. What's up?