12 years.

I've got a friend. If anyone asks, he's my 'best' friend.
He's not the strongest or smartest person I know.
We get in stupid fights over stupid issues.
But I know him.
I've known him since we were three or so.
He's familiar, and that's sometimes everything you could want or need in a friend.
I know him, and he knows me.
We're still kind of alien to one another, but that's good too.
He's all angst.
I'm all douche.
We're still friends, despite our flaws... And that's something special.
12 Years.
That's something special.
I know him and he knows me, but we don't pretend to understand each other.
Neither of us have brothers.
We both have sisters.
We vehemently battle our domestic over-femininity.
But sometimes it feels like we're losing.
I eat his soup and release the demons in his microwave.
He eats my waffles and melts my butter.
His dad flashed me at two o' clock in the morning the other week.
12 years doesn't prepare you for that.
- VanZandt's blog
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OUch!!
I like how you concentrate on that number and what it means to you. It really emphasizes your friendship (if that makes any sense.) I like the shift at the end and the little zing, even if it is a bit disturbing.
Oh, it was VERY
Oh, it was VERY disturbing... Haha. Thanks though.