This post is dedicated to my oldest, most haunted friend who is going through a hard time at the moment.
You are amazing. Sure, you’re in Slytherin and you have Sarcasm Overdrive Syndrome, but you are amazing. And anyway, those two things aren’t so bad because in the end, they make you you.
Whilst honouring the fact that this is a really difficult time, I want to remind you that you haven’t always felt this way and you won’t always feel this way. It’s in times like this, when shit has hit the fan and the ground has shifted underneath our feet, that it’s important to remember our greatest hits. You are funny, ridiculous, smart and discerning and you have given me and so many others so much joy. That much is still very, very true.
Like when you fell off your chair in the archives room.
Like the half sleepover.
All the times we ate all the Hula Hoops and cherry tomatoes.
Skiing in Keystone.
Lusting over Heath Ledger at Showcase Cinema.
When you were convinced you were being haunted by the ghost of Michael Jackson.
When you fell off your chair in General R.S.
The ‘synoptic’ we did of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, discussing the free-spirited nature of Audrey Hepburn’s Holly Golightly.
How you had a terrible bout of glandular fever, were off school for weeks and still managed to ace you’re A Levels.
That adorable photograph of you wearing wellies and holding an umbrella.
Washing your hair in yellow water at the youth hostel in Ypres.
Being in a cinema surrounded by French kids on a school exchange and a trailer came on for GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra where the Eiffel Tower is blown up and they all started yelling.
The time you nearly died laughing after inhaling some nitrous oxide.
For being the best hide and seeker I have ever met (I still can’t get over the curtain).
When you were sent to the front of our Geography class because our teacher had a ‘bad feeling’ about you.
Sound of the Underground.
Your manifesto for polar bear safety in your English GCSE speaking and listening exam.
Struggling to walk up hills and measure soil acidity in the Peak District.
Your squeaky laugh.
Watching The Virgin Suicides, which has become one of my all-time favourite films.
Going for dinner at Zizzis in Covent Garden to decompress and gather ourselves the night after we were mugged in Kennington.
Going for heavily discounted dinner at Café Rouge in Holborn to celebrate the last day of my internship in London: getting pissed, terrorising the National Theatre, getting home and doing shots of gin and whiskey (what were we THINKING?!), before throwing up our discounted dinner and having to go to work the next day very hungover.
You lent me Born To Die thus beginning my Lana Del Rey fandom.
Annual trips to see Harry Potter for your birthday.
All the times you made sure all our friends’ siblings were included in our games: you never wanted anyone to feel left out.
Watching you fail to throw a shotput but being excellent at hockey.
The endless number of phone calls where we have laughed, cried, consoled each other and put the world to rights.
Even though you are in a lot of pain right now, I want you to keep these words from A Midsummer Night’s Dream in mind: ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce’.
Lots of love x