We met through a Norfolk Terrace confessions page. You read about “blue haired clown girl,” an unhinged individual who walked around campus in colourful costumes and, naturally, you thought “I want to be friends with this weirdo.” So you dropped me a DM. Now, we trade insults over who is the biggest loser (it’s clearly you) and we are moving in together next year.
I often think of the time you put on a dinner party to celebrate me being two weeks sober, and I had to admit I’d binged the night before. You held my hand whilst feeding me teriyaki tofu, and things felt a little less painful. The other day I received a letter in the post congratulating me on being two months sober. It was from you, my best UEA pal. I cried. I would not have been able to do this without you and your continued support, even when I slip up.
Also, please stop trying to romance my mother. I know you think she’s “well fit”, but you are not taking her to Pizza Express. She is a refined lady who deserves a fancy Pizzeria, not some chain restaurant. I still love you man, even though you unironically listen to Radiohead, play RuneScape and are obsessed with BoJack Horseman (massive red flag). Love you for a long time, you strange, strange person, I can’t wait to live with you next year.