I’m looking for someone to help me make a mess of the kitchen that we don’t clean up for days and to yell at for not doing anything wrong when I just need to go off on someone. I don’t need someone to tell me I’m crazy for obsessively rearranging the furniture every month. I don’t need someone to hold me at night or fix the leaky faucet. I don’t need to be taken care of, I don’t want to be taken care of. I’m looking for a business partner, a wall to bounce ideas off of, and a strong pair of hands to help me move the couch to the other side of the room so I can decide I liked it better where it was originally. I want a friend I can talk to. Someone to laugh at me when I trip over myself and fall on my ass, and maybe, just once or twice, to help me up off the ground. I don’t need roses or diamonds or any romantic shit. I just need to die knowing one person in the entire world knew all of my flaws and all of my secrets and loved me anyway.
