Come to think about it, my life and what happens in and around it should make me bitter. And sometimes it does. Bitter, twisted, and a vile shade of jealous. I get jealous of people's popularity, their exposure, the fact they get gifts for doing little else other than simply existing, whilst people like me sit in the shadows, getting nothing, and shrugging it off saying it's fine, that's what I do, it's my job, I don't ask for a return.
But, you know something? Even with all the gifts all those people get combined, I still have more than they have. I have true friends. Friends I can trust and rely on. Friends I can turn to when I'm feeling down. Friends who I can see as friends even when I'm deep in psychosis.
These people are the best friends in the world, and I wouldn't trade them for anything