If they gave awards for extreme awesomeness in the field of friendship, my best friend would win them all. She'd have trophy rooms full to bursting, walls lined with shelves upon shelves of shiny plaques and giant trophies, drawers heavy with ridiculously ornate medals trumpeting her awesomeness as a friend. Between the two of us, the truth is clear: she is a far better friend.
I've never been able to keep up with her in the field of friendship. I'm the selfish one, always busy and slightly neglectful. I don't call as regularly, don't do thoughtful gestures anywhere near as often.
She's the type to show up in a heartbeat. If you need her, she's there. No matter how inconvenient, no matter what else she has going on. She's the type to drive an hour and a half in from out of town when you're in the hospital with possible appendicitis. The kind of friend that's always on your side, always there when you need a shoulder to cry on.
Not only is she the world's greatest friend, she's also the most fun. She's gorgeous, stylish and classy. She's creative and unique. She's funny and thoughtful, a trendsetter in every way. She is an individual, never afraid to be herself. She is my hero.
And so, the time has come when she needs me. And goddammit I'm going to rise to the occassion. A friend like this - nay, a person like this - comes along once in a lifetime. I may not be (and probably never will be) as good of a friend as she is, but for her I'm going to try.
The truth is, I'm glad she sets the bar so high on what it means to be a good friend. Striving to attain her level of loyalty and compassion makes me a better person. And I'm eternally grateful.