I think I have a splinter on my right forefinger. I don't know how I got but it hurts like a bruise but there's nothing there, just when I run my thumb through it, I feel a vein snake around. Weird, huh? Like it's not protruding or anything but damn, it hurts.

You know who I miss? Kristin Nicole Marcelino. She's probably going to kill me for putting her full name here, but it's okay, she loves me enough to overlook my faults. No, really. She's seen me through my worst & she never walked away. Ah, I miss you, dorkface. Shit, I remember that. Our conversations starting around 7 or 8 & ending at 5 AM. Talking about nothing, talking about everything.
I've seen that girl grow up, seen her already kind heart become even kinder. I've seen her fall & rise even higher. And even when I met her at 12 years old about four & a half years ago, it never ceased to amaze me how mature she was, at fucking 12 years old. I learned a lot from her even though I was two years older.
This girl & I are too similar for our own good. We finish each other's sentences, & hate the same kind of people. Mainly because she hates who I end up hating & I hate who she ends up hating because we know, man, we just know. It's like infrared.
She's never judgmental & she's not afraid to put me in the right state of mind because she knows I'm about to fuck up.
I admire her because she leaves a profoundly memorable impression on people, & I wish I had that.
When someone calls me a dork, she's the first one that automatically pops into my head. Because that's what she calls me, all the time. Like a term of endearment even though it's the slang term of a whale's penis.
& to this day, she still calls me that.
I love how things never change with her.

I don't know. This is one of those random spasms of gratitude & love.
I told you, I get them on occasions.

Byeee