  I spent a lot of time in my life worrying myself about my friends. Sometimes the worry would lie squarely in the way of trust, sometimes it would close me off, sometimes it would eat at me.
It’s weird to admit to have been so lonely, when I always had people at my house or visa versa. Particularly when I was younger, I always had a gaggle of pals around me. But there has always been this terrifying sense of “Oh my god, they don’t really like me. It’s some sort of joke.” That’s really what’s so cozy about Robin and Lauren. I don’t second guess why we’re friends. It just is. They’re the kind of people that will politely suffer through a half-hour rant about a minor musical detail, without clenching a fist or changing the subject. They accept my faults, oh yes; there are lots of them. But I think we all recognize our own shortcomings.
So what if Lauren takes several minuets to recite to a joke? Or if Robin likes to wear lip gloss like its sunscreen? Because for every time they’ve pissed me off, I have pissed them off just as many times. I wonder if this is what being an adult is like. It seems to me that once you begin to recognize who you are, you can form stronger relationships with the people around you.
It sort of like when Death Cab for Cutie sings about Los Angles, “You can’t swim in a town this shallow”. You can't expirence the depth of human connections unless you're, well, deep . Once you begin to explore the inner depths of who you are, there is enough of you to befriend. Before, when people like Claire and Maryellen- and even Mary- were my buddies, there simply wasn’t enough person to know. How could I expect them to forge lifelong friendships with me when I didn’t even know who I was? Affectionately... Anna 
