It’s a difficult term. You apply it at a young age, and undoubtedly spite many people along the way. In one sense, every one has a multitude of best friends. They are the people who you have grown with, that you can ‘be yourself with’ what ever that quaint phrase means. They are people who lean forwards and snatch that mask off your face. They also begin conversations with you, without an introduction, and just trust that you’ll find your way through the grand scheme of things, and still have something of value to say before you slam dunk into the conclusion.
My best friend is stunning. My best friend is powerful and beautiful and intelligent. If I ever think I’m jealous, I look and I remember I just want the best, always. My best friend is my sister, my friend, my soul sister, my twin – you notice I lack specificities because the title is not set in stone. My best friend(s) knows who they are. I would not be where I am without them.
We tell ourselves we are alone in the world to make ourselves feel stronger. In my weakness, and my vulnerability I become stronger, and our friendship grows tighter.