A few years ago, my mom and I had a blowout fight. I can't recall what sparked the argument, but what I do remember is lying on the bathroom floor and sobbing as I scanned my texts for someone to reach out to who could keep me distracted from all the sadness.
In my phone were the names of dozens of girls I met during my time at college, when I was rotating through late-night clubbing, brunches, and concerts in an attempt to get closer to people I hoped would one day be bridesmaids at my wedding. But truthfully? These friendships were superficial—nothing like what I watched and coveted in the TV show Girls. I couldn't rely on them during a panic attack. And if you can't call a friend at 10 p.m. on a weekday when the snot coming out of your nose has made you unintelligible, are they even a friend? |
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