One year, and here we are again. We've both changed and grown so much. We've fought too many battles the past year, and I can read those failures and triumphs in our eyes. The difference between the first picture and the last is impeccable. I've only known you for one year, yet you've already been everything to me: my friend, my lover, my muse. Thinking back to when it all began, last September over a cigarette on a break from painting class. And now, whenever I paint, I paint with you -- if not in person, then in spirit. You've seen me naked, both literally and figuratively, and accepted me with love and open arms no matter how much I despised myself. You know me better than anyone I've ever truly known, even better than I know myself sometimes. It's been only one year, but I've never understood the words "best friend" until now. Stephanie, you are the Bubblegum to my Marceline. The Daria to my Jane. The Bubbles to my Buttercup. You are Frida's past life, and I was her past life's lover. I love you with everything I am, and everything I hope to be. I love us and everything we have been through.
mkp.
