Jessie Myers is my best friend. Back when we both lived in Cincinnati--before I hiked north to Dayton and before she trekked west to Illinois--we would hang out nearly every day. Sometimes we would do exciting things, like go to The Anchor. Or go get coffee. But most of the time we'd just hang out on campus, and when I got my own place, we'd spend hours just hanging out, watching tv, and fixing delicious chicken/rice/macaroni & cheese dinners (gourmet and cheap). I remember when we first met: she was chatting up a friend of mine, and I was walking past, and they were sitting on the cobbled stone wall overlooking the city and I sat down in the grass beside them and my friend told her, "He smokes cigarettes." And that was her first impression of me. We hit it off pretty well, and a little group formed. Oh, the days of "the group": me, Kyle, Gambill, Jessie, Faikham, and Deshay. Three different ethnicities all rolled into one: American, Venezuelan, and (my favorite): Thai (and not just 'cause of the food; this girl was a fox). We would go out to eat or just hang out in the campus rec center or go ice skating, my personal favorite. The Group dissolved, and I still talk to Kyle sometimes, and I see Gambill every once in a while, and sadly I don't see Jessie that often. But, anyways, the point of all this: during two years of my life I went through vicious bouts of depression, and she was there alongside me the entire way. A true best friend. And I'd cry and she'd be there, and she'd cry and I'd be there, and when the worst night of my life thus far rolled around, who was the first friend I called? You got it: Jessie. I woke her up at 3:00 in the morning and ranted and raved and wept and cursed as I drove the empty streets of Cincinnati, and she was there for me. And I don't know if I've told her this (and I don't know if she still reads this), but talking to her made me realize everything would be okay. And the next day when I made the decision to move home, she was the first to know. We treated me out for lunch and stood by my side. I love her, and she doesn't know how much she means to me, because I suck at being appreciative.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
30 Days (IX)
Jessie Myers is my best friend. Back when we both lived in Cincinnati--before I hiked north to Dayton and before she trekked west to Illinois--we would hang out nearly every day. Sometimes we would do exciting things, like go to The Anchor. Or go get coffee. But most of the time we'd just hang out on campus, and when I got my own place, we'd spend hours just hanging out, watching tv, and fixing delicious chicken/rice/macaroni & cheese dinners (gourmet and cheap). I remember when we first met: she was chatting up a friend of mine, and I was walking past, and they were sitting on the cobbled stone wall overlooking the city and I sat down in the grass beside them and my friend told her, "He smokes cigarettes." And that was her first impression of me. We hit it off pretty well, and a little group formed. Oh, the days of "the group": me, Kyle, Gambill, Jessie, Faikham, and Deshay. Three different ethnicities all rolled into one: American, Venezuelan, and (my favorite): Thai (and not just 'cause of the food; this girl was a fox). We would go out to eat or just hang out in the campus rec center or go ice skating, my personal favorite. The Group dissolved, and I still talk to Kyle sometimes, and I see Gambill every once in a while, and sadly I don't see Jessie that often. But, anyways, the point of all this: during two years of my life I went through vicious bouts of depression, and she was there alongside me the entire way. A true best friend. And I'd cry and she'd be there, and she'd cry and I'd be there, and when the worst night of my life thus far rolled around, who was the first friend I called? You got it: Jessie. I woke her up at 3:00 in the morning and ranted and raved and wept and cursed as I drove the empty streets of Cincinnati, and she was there for me. And I don't know if I've told her this (and I don't know if she still reads this), but talking to her made me realize everything would be okay. And the next day when I made the decision to move home, she was the first to know. We treated me out for lunch and stood by my side. I love her, and she doesn't know how much she means to me, because I suck at being appreciative.
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1 comment:
i love you anthony koalabeast barnhart, my best friend . this made my day today. (& yes i still do read your blog from time to time; i love it!) can we go on a date next time i'm in cinci!? :D
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