Feeling: flippant
Listening to: Jennifer Knapp - Around Me
Reading/Watching: Legends trilogy, because mon coeur is the world's most perfect man

What does one do for a four-year anniversary?

My journal and I have been together for four years. It's quite breathtaking. We had a few breaks, some time off from each other, to re-evaluate the relationship, but always came back together with a sigh and a smile. While other people would dump their partner for newer, hotter journals, we were too comfortable to stay apart, even though she knows I'm seeing LJ on the side (she's a bit miffed about that).

She expected more of me at times, I think. She expected that I'd be graduated by now, or at least on my way to teacher's certification, with a minor, or a double major. She hoped that I'd learn to keep my spelling and grammer intact, drop my bad habit of dangling participles, perhaps even construct complete sentences. And stop beginning them with the word 'and.'

She wanted me to change my layout more often than I have, no doubt, because even though I change my clothes daily, she's worn the same outfit for close on two years now, and I'm sure she'd like to re-evaluate whether she's really a summer or a winter.

I bet she was as shocked as I was when I started losing weight freshman year, and then disappointed in me when I leveled off and stayed the same size for the next three years. But she smiled and never, ever said I looked fat in those jeans.

I think that every time I cried onto the keyboard while typing an entry, she gave me a brave smile and waited to cry until after I'd left. She's a good friend like that: strong as long as I need her.

Whenever I told silly stories, she was the first to laugh, even if it wasn't really funny. That way, when she retold the story to everyone, it was her fault if it didn't get so much as a chuckle.

She's a bit of a gossip, though. She would blab everything I said to every single person who would listen. I finally had to start telling her which stories were private and which were meant for everyone to hear, because she kept meeting more people. At first she only talked to a handful, maybe half a dozen, but she kept making friends, and now has thirty-seven people who check with her to see how I'm doing. That's not counting the satellite readers, who circle around every once in a while to catch up, and have to hear a big pile of Katie-isms at once. She's extremely indiscriminate. She even managed to accidentally bump into a large chunk of people I know. Since they're always game for a retelling of my life, they'd stick around for more, and naturally she spilled it all, the little blabbermouth. The worst of it is, she never forgets anything. Which is partially my fault. If I asked her to stop telling certain stories, I've no doubt she'd clam up immediately.

I don't want to muzzle her, though. There's very little in my life about which I am ashamed, especially the four years I've been with her. I think, in some ways, having to sort out my thoughts to her has clarified them. She made me face myself at last, and examine what I had to say. She made me decide what I think, what I want, where I'm going. She's very stubborn, doesn't really put up with my bullshit. I try to lie to her, and she laughs. If I'm overdramatic, she calls me on it. In hearing her say it back to me, I'd realize how ridiculous it really is, and have to grin ruefully and get over myself.

She also tends to slap me across the face and say, "You've done this before. Remember the time?" and whip out some story about the guy who was just like this one, or the time I chickened out of this particular thing, and how I felt afterward. She reminds me when a friend has been good to me. She points out when someone has disappointed me in the past. She won't let me get away with rationalizing someone's mistakes... especially my own. It's liberating. And annoying.

She can be a great listener. A faithful friend. Endlessly loyal, although there's been a time or two that I said something cutting about someone, and she whispered it in the wrong ear. She's kind of a bitch about making everything I say into public business; she says it's my fault if I say something cruel, since I shouldn't tell her if I want to keep it secret.

Which is true. And so I say, world, that my journal and I have been together for four years today. She's the best/worst/craziest/most aggravating friend I've ever had.

And she's mad that I didn't call her on my birthday, a whole thirty minutes ago. At least I remembered to visit her on hers.

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