I will tell you a little story to preface this post… when my sister and I were kids, we would always complain to our mother during the summer months how bored we were. We were allowed to have friends over to the house whenever we wanted, but on this day, nobody was over just yet. My mother said this: “It is better to be bored with friends than it is to be bored alone.”
This saying always resonated with me because of the truth behind it. I would much rather be bored, chilling with my best friend than to be by myself, bored and alone. This prompt for blogtober20 suggests I should talk about a significant other, but if it were about that, I would have no one to write about. I will discuss one of my very best friends and why I love him dearly.
Ya’ll have heard me discuss my friend, Brent time and time again. But what I haven’t told you is why I love him as if he were my own family. He is one of the most caring and kind people that I have ever met. He constantly puts others before himself. He takes care of those he deems are family. He has made a point to get to know my family and be friends with my sister and my parents. Brent is loyal, patient, faithful, available 24/7/366.
Most importantly Brent is the reason that I am very much still alive. If. he didn’t call me and talk me off the metaphorical ledge, my car would be swimming in Puget Sound and I would be locked in my car; I would be dead. I don’t really remember all of what he told me but he talked and listened to my concerns and listened as I cried for help; I had reached my rock bottom.
The point of it all is that he is always there for me and the ones he loves. He doesn’t quite understand bipolar disorder, just because he doesn’t struggle with it. But he has researched the matter diligently in order to help me when I’m either suicidal depressed or on a manic spree. Either way, he is by my side relentlessly.
I can’t say that I’ve always been the best friend to Brent that he has been to me. I’ve hurt his feelings a few times, and I may have been justified in some way, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. If I hurt him unintentionally, it hurts me and vice versa. We are an extension of each other; we know each other’s next move and next thought without verbalizing it.
I’ve never had a friend like Brent before and I am proud to call him my best friend. I love him very much and like that he always reads my blog posts, no matter how bad they are and comes to visit me during my surgery recovery. It means the world to me, so this was the least I could do for him.
I love you, Brent. Ride or die.