I Didn't Find True Friendship Until my 20s

As detailed here, I've always had trouble making friends. I'm very introverted, as well as shy (which is not the same thing), and admittedly awkward, so getting to know people has always been a challenge for me. I of course have had friends throughout my life, but they've come and gone as we got older, moved, or went off to college. It happens, but even the friendships I had growing up didn't feel like what I was told friends were supposed to be. I was usually picked on by my friends, and not just light teasing—it was to the point where I felt like they didn't even like me.

This isn't to say that these friendships were shit, they just weren't what I thought friends should be. We laughed a lot, had plenty of inside jokes, all the lighthearted stuff; but when it came to talking about how I truly felt and what was going on with me mentally and emotionally, it wasn't easily received. When I told my friends in high school that I was experiencing severe anxiety, they acted really awkward about it and didn't exactly offer a ton of helpful words of encouragement or understanding. Sure, we were high schoolers and didn't have much life experience, but they could have at least said or done something that a friend would do and not ask me to drop them off at the front parking lot after I told them I was having bad panic attacks. I have since strayed from those friendships; not out of malice or hatred, just time and separation. It wasn't until I met Kassi as an undergrad that I found out what friendship actually was.

Kassi and I joke about when we first met each other. We were somehow in three classes together, including an architecture course, so naturally we got to talking. I ended up dropping the architecture course, and later on in our friendship, she told me that she was pissed I dropped it because I was the only other art history major in the course (sorry again, Kass). I thought Kassi was this really cool, edgy chick with cool sweaters, shoes, and lipstick. She made this really creepy video for our film class and I thought, "Ok, this girl needs to be my friend." She was really sweet, and I was stoked that I knew another art history major. Then we found out we would both be in the London Summer 2014 study abroad program, so we began planning right away on things to do together while there. I was so excited—I had a friend!

One of my favorite pictures of us at the Cliffs of Moher in February 2017.

While in London, Kassi and I grew insanely close. We were in the same ethics class, so after it ended we would gallivant throughout London together. We visited museums, coffee shops, pubs, you name it. We were practically attached at the hip. I was so happy to have had finally met someone who loved art, culture, and history as much as I did without being snobby or standoffish. We were freaking out when we walked into a church that dated back to the twelfth century, and spent one early, rainy evening standing at the gates of Buckingham Palace and taking in the beautiful pink and yellow sky. I was in heaven, and I finally had a friend who understood just how beautiful a moment like this was.

The next two years were a whirlwind of constant dinners, study dates, museum visits to LA, trips to each other's hometowns, birthday lunches, and so on. We were inseparable, and everyone in the art department thought we were dating. We borrowed each other's clothes (well, it was mostly me who borrowed), talked about our families, our dreams for the future, bonded over old Hollywood and French films, made grilled goat cheese sandwiches, and attended nearly every guest lecture on campus that was offered. Her friendship made me so happy, and there was even more to be appreciative of as my mental health took a turn.

A very normal outing as zombie Cherie Currie and Joan Jett.

I wasn't entirely open with Kassi about my past mental health struggles with anxiety and depression, out of fear of what her reaction would be. Based on past experiences, I worried that she would become distant and avoid talking about the subject. But when I did tell her what was going on, she was so caring and understanding, and didn't for one minute judge me or make me feel like a weirdo. She wanted to make sure I was ok, and no other friend had ever been so clear about that.

Since then, we've shared a London flat together as we both attended grad school for art history; paraded through London dressed as a zombie Joan Jett and Cherie Currie; drank wine at night on the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral; overlooked Irish sea cliffs and went on a Dublin ghost tour; gazed at the Parisian landscape from the Sacre Coeur and squealed at Delacroix's work at the Louvre; danced the night away with 5 French men; and so much more. All the while, she's always been there for me. Even while we've been separated by continents and oceans these past two years, we always touch base as if no time has passed at all. She truly is the best friend I've ever had, and accepts me more than any friend has.

Us being delinquents in Paris.

I write this post to let anyone out there know that there are people who truly care about you. You deserve to have friends who make sure you're ok and who don't judge you for having problems with your mental health. If it hadn't been for Kassi, I don't know what these past few years would've looked like. She truly showed me a part of me that I didn't even know existed: someone who is confident, smart, well-spoken, and can pull off a leather skirt. She's someone I will have in my life for years to come, and I can't wait for all the questionable shit we'll do together in an Austrian nursing home when we're 85 and wearing red lipstick to breakfast.

Cheers to you, Kassi—the best friend I've ever had.