[i love]

how we get dressed up and try to pretend that we’re not a drunken mess since we have "pretty" clothes on.

that your "pretty songs" are so foul, they would make a pirate blush.

how you can be the mom and the out-of-control kid sister all in the same evening.

walking upstairs to the tiki bar, alone, to escape the people who are my friends.

talking me down from the ledge, under the speakers, in that loud dive bar.

the way you used to make fun of me in your letters twenty years ago.

twenty years before i liked you.

twenty years before you liked me.

the night at your dad’s, watching Amityville Horror, when you were “her kid sister”.

the night we were doing shots in your mom’s kitchen when the sister was in her room studying.

falling asleep with you in your dad’s back yard. the pillows and comforter from your bed.

the fact that your dad came out at 5am to get his radio, but left our money laying right where it was.

your couch.

the way that everyone who doesn’t know you thinks that you’re a total bitch.

the way that the few of us you actually let in know that you have the biggest heart.

that you look out for me.

that we’re the "terrible ones" together.

that we're not allowed to make your sister cry anymore.

that you came into my life by accident.

that you stuck around, by choice.

that we're romy & michele, and nothing can change that.