By Juniper Cassaway
In a weird way, everything is circular. Everything is round. Everything makes sense when coming from the people in my life who make the most sense. My best friend is my best friend because he is my best friend. He just gets it. We were strangers and then we were twin flames, there was no air between the match and the fire. They know everything, we know everything, we are everything. Instant church buddies questioning our sexual orientation, to mentally-ill graduate besties knowing our eternal souls would never be apart despite leaving our religion in the pews of Beaumont, Texas. Then, long distance life-lovers knowing we were not cis, to witchy autistic meant-to-be’s always getting tattoos together. My best friend is my best friend because she is my best friend. They were and we are and we always will be. We just get it.
Currently residing in Baton Rouge