I don't have so much a vendetta against dragons, these days.

Sometimes it annoys me how much he’s right, that he sees so much. The thing is, I know what’s there, I just get really good at blocking it out of my mind, and he doesn’t bother with that. But I guess that’s what friends are for—they cut through the bullshit, and see past the fronts you’ve put up, against yourself or the outside world. The half-hearted excuses you use to keep yourself from trying for happiness don’t hold up in any amount of light, and a real friend is someone who won’t let you hide that kind of shit in the shadows. That’s something I’ve always thought of, when I see those stupid “A good friend… but a BEST friend…” stickers/pins/t-shirts/bumper stickers at those stupid stores.

A good friend will laugh with you. A best friend teaches you to laugh at yourself. A good friend will find you the right parties, a best friend will skip the parties with you. A good friend is someone you can talk to, but a best friend is someone you can be quiet with. All that good shit. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that it's not the physical things, even the physical actions, that define a friendship. It's not even, really, how much you can trust them (it is, though), it's something else, I don't know. A best friend is someone you can drop the mask to, or someone who forces you to drop the mask to yourself.

Honestly, I don't like the label 'best friend,' and am using it here out of convenience. In my mind, it conveys the image of cheap jewelry in the shape of a puzzle piece, of giggles and doing each other's hair, and I know that's a stupid prejudice. When I say 'best friend,' I mean just friend, someone who matters to you... more than most people? I don't know. Friends. You know what I mean. I think.

My closest friends don’t so much influence me as they free me from the influences of the rest of the world. I feel more myself around them, and that has good and bad consequences, pleasant and unpleasant both. I see faults, things I hate about myself, more when I’m talking to a best friend than when I’m alone, than when I’m with anyone else. I unveil more of myself, which means I’m more easily hurt. But the few close friends I have, I wouldn’t trade for anything.

It’s late, and I should probably go to sleep or something, especially since I kind of want to be rid of this lingering fever. But it’s not often I decide to listen to a U2 album, full through, and I’m on the third now, in descending order by year. (How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb) Something about an album isn’t complete unless it’s listened to full through, in order. I don’t know why. Certainly songs can be appreciated on their own, and in a different, more individual light, without the context of their album covers. Holistically, though, it’s like… Like looking at the pages of a sketchbook. They can be appreciated on their own, but if you look at them altogether, there’s a bigger image.

Anyway.