If my twenties were to tell a story, they'd rave of the Saturdays I spent in the city with my best friends from high school, drowning our sorrows in California Rolls and living on the unexplainable high that comes from a work week of over-exhaustion and trying too hard to make life fit. And it would be the best damn story ever written because these people will never break my heart and that means something to me.
P.S. I weirdly only got this picture of Carter and me, but oh well. Did you know that Carter took me to homecoming senior year, even though I had been sick with Mono? I even told him that if he wanted to go with someone more fun I would understand. But he took me anyway and we've been best friends ever since. I love him, so.