Goodbyes Suck

I'm not good at goodbyes. That's not a secret. When my friend went into the MTC I was crying so much I had to get escorted out of the building by the little old grandmas. I bawled halfway through the security line at the Salt Lake airport before my internship last summer. So yeah, I'm just really not good at leaving.

I had to say goodbye to my best friend today. And it's kind of the worst.

Because in my super senior year, Ryan was literally the glue that held my hot mess life together. I really couldn't ask for a better person to have around.

I mean, who else would deliver New York Times for me when I was too tired? Or let me steal his jackets for days at a time? Or always let me use his chapstick and drink his water? Or warm up my feet and hands when they're cold (aka every minute of every day)? Or go through my box of chocolates and take a little bite of each one so I knew what flavor it is? Or bring me Diet Coke when I'm having a rough day? Or let me use him as a pillow during movies or road trips or most life situations? Or understands that when I say "Get these Cadbury Eggs away from me" I really mean "Take a couple out of the bag and give me one every couple of minutes." Or not get mad that there are constantly size-6 footprints on the inside of his car because I like putting my feet on the dashboard?

So if you happen to be traveling through Alaska this summer and see a baldy with chicken legs and no butt who wears a calculator watch and a fork ring, give him a huge hug for me because I miss him already.