Crazy Girl

She is sitting attentively.

I’m sprawled across the bed telling a story lined with too many complaints,

but there she sits.

She has studied at Oxford, stayed in Australia, and spent her summer months running away across globe.

I feel like

I’m trapping her

in my room

because I know she’d rather be driving with the windows down.

Everyone put on a perfect act, so I felt isolated in my imperfections.

Everyone,

that is,

except for the girl sitting attentively at the corner of bed.

She is different.

I don’t call her my closest friend

as in all of her adventures she sometimes

forgets to call.

I often won’t see her

for months.

But she is my opposite.

I put all my trust in, this

crazy adventurer.

Because when she was there,

she would grab your hand

and suddenly,

you were invincible,

you were chosen.

Because she could be driving with the windows down,

or in Australia,

or Oxford.

But she chose to be with me.

I need this crazy girl,

I hope she needs me.