45 x 365 #359

359/365 - TJC

She told me her major was creative writing and I said, in my usual tactful way, “why don’t you get a real major?” But she is a writer, a fabulous writer. Her poems make my heart hurt and her stories make me scared and lonely.

OR

I would watch her play Final Fantasy Tactics until my eyes would fall heavy and drool would end up on her pillow. We would play pool (badly) and order Papa John’s garlic bread and drink Mountain Dew while listening to Garth Brooks and Billy Joel.

OR

She’s a slacker. She’d take an F in a class rather than ask an instructor to sign that paper. She earned a master’s degree but works a crappy job at a crappy clothing store. She’s also loyal, funny, smart, and one of my best friends.

OR

Hers is a dysfunctional family; she watches her siblings fall in and out of love. She doesn’t want to be like them, in oh so many ways, so she steals her heart, stays in her shell, and hides away so no man can hurt her.