(Theres a heavy chance I might get sidetracked and start talking about Famous Amos or the weather, so be informed.)

Now, I might suffer from psychological and mental issues, but heck it dont matter because Gracie isn't exactly all about rationality and normal anyway. That may come as an insult to most of you, but if it does, then what the fuck are ya doin' here?We're hot young people in last year's clothes and freshly crazed minds. It doesn't matter if we're rude and stupid; didn't I say we're hot and young?

Anyway, I don't even know her full name, or else I forgot which is mean (don't forget your friend's full name kids), but I know very well that she is fucking awesome. More awesome than Saturday cartoons, more awesome than sundaes on a hot summer's day, more awesome than a public toilet when you have to piss so badly, and certainly, more awesome than myself, who is pretty damn awesome to be honest.

She is my other half. The kind of friend that you don't have to call every single day or meet 7 days a week, 12 months in a year but still have that bad ass bond that makes other people glare and admire. We discuss complicated plots to kidnap Pete and put him in our basement. Sometimes, when we are really in a good mood, we make up characters we wish we are, and babble away with childish imagination. We talk about deep stuffs too; we're smart, really, just in the wrong and sick way.

We share things I can't believe I could even think of sharing. We annoy ceaselessly, we promise carelessly, we wait patiently, we tease and torment, we ponder deeply, we fight with venom, we cry shamelessly and we love. And when we can't breathe, or the world seems to manipulate even more and close in on us, we sigh and we sit, in each other's presence.

She'd pat me on my back, and tell me everything is going to be alright even if the situation is completely hopeless and fucked. She'd put a smile on my sad, unjustified face, and sometimes leave my mouth wide open, just by being Gracie. She's explicit, and dangerous. She'd say 'Fuck your skinny asses' and say 'ILY' in a matter of seconds. She's wildly complicated. Freaky and alien, at times. Too emotional, or too icy. Sad, desperate and in love. And sometimes, in those rare moments, she's this happy little girl in pigtails with a giant ice cream in hand.

Maybe it's ridiculous to be so attached to someone over the internet; because we all know the internet can be a nest of terror, but whenever I allow myself to think about it, I find myself not caring at all. I'm here, she's here, we're rockin' and smokin', and we love each other. So, what's the problem?

We're friends, and if you knew exactly how we are together, you'd be so jealous.

And if youre one of those witty ass people who snort in contempt, and go They're psychopaths with too much time in their hands., well, guess what punk?

You suck.

(ooh, veeery snappy Ray.)

We have something, me and Gracie, and youd be lying through your teeth if you try to deny it. This unlogical and wondrous thing I call our friendship is so gigantic and powerful, itd blow Hiroshima and Nagasaki off hands down and still have enough ammos to smack you across the face. And Im not even sure why I instigate to convince you all so much anyways.