The Purest Heart I Know

There exists this girl. You'd never guess that she wasn't actually a figment of your imagination if she didn't interact with other people. Everywhere she goes, she brings light. In her golden hair, in her unwavering smile. Sometimes you have to stop and think to yourself

Is this an angel?

We didn't talk much. Just sat as a part of the group, her with her dark, stylish shades, me with my fading blue hair and thin, over worn sweater. Perhaps the only conversation shared was a discussion on Sufjan Stevens. I should've known then who i was dealing with - only the most wonderful people can whole heartedly love Sufjan the way she does. Or love anything in such a way. So purely.

Suddenly, i find myself in a certain Nissan Altima, driving along I-5, and then Highway 101 with this girl. And it's like we'd always been friends. Like we'd already shared our darkest secrets with each other, and come through to the other side, in full acceptance and admiration (at least on my behalf) on who the other was. Aside from sleeping and showering, we were in near constant company for bordering on 100 hours. The best 100 hours of my life, without a doubt. 

You would think that a trip like this would bring out the annoying habits and mannerisms of people you once thought were free of them. But this girl remained as untainted as a newborn child. Always polite, always considerate. She'd apologize for accidentally interrupting, but wouldn't say a thing when someone else interjected. You must think "She has to be annoyed at such an action, but she just hides it well." But I don't think that to be true. I think terrible injustice is the only thing that can truly upset her. And such a trivial thing, well - it is what it is, and what is there to be upset about? 

You cannot know pure until you have met the girl who decides to take a nap on a rock by the ocean. You cannot know love until you sit with this girl in a Borders, reading Postsecret and a Sufjan interview while Celtic music softly plays over the speakers. You cannot laugh truly until you have been with the girl who wrote ALTIMA on a piece of notebook paper as if it came from a horror film, and held it against the car window to show the passing nissan.

By the way, I really hope you don't still feel guilty about me getting you coffee and coving your Pho. It's the least I could do for a friend such as you.

I love you! :)