Friendship is magic, bitch.
You suck. You have terrible moodswings, and constantly whine and whinge and sometimes I want to hit you.
"I'm leaving. Goodbye. We're over! OVER, I tell you!" D'you remember that? It was today. Oh yeah, now you remember.
I'd never do that. Leave, I mean. I'll be stalking you years after we leave to different colleges, you to NYU, and I to CSM (Central St. Martins'!)
Why? I love you. No, not in a lesbian-I-want-to-get-into-your-pants way, a you're-my-best-fucking-friend-don't-you-fucking-dare way.
"Pleeeeeaaaaseeeeee? I'll be your best friend!"
"I am your best friend,"
"Even beeeeester friend!"
"Bro, we're twins, you can't get bester than that." That was Monday. You still didn't help me.
Friendship is fucking magic, bitch.
The terrible twins ask me "Why do you swear?"
It's because you're cool with it, bro. If you weren't I wouldn't.
I call you a bitch, you call me a spintry, we kiss and make up. It's our version of a fistfight, with less bruises. We deal. It's bette