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Everyone needs a best friend to whom she can spill all her inner horror. I met mine, Chloe, through work during the time I was happily (?) married and she was happily (?) in a relationship with her live-in boyfriend of ten-plus years. Ours is a long distance friendship—she lives in LA—but we still consider ourselves to be best friends. As best friends often do, we live strangely parallel lives, which included parallel devastation when both of our relationships ended.
Because of the distance, we communicate mainly by email. It’s like writing in a diary, only with someone actually on the other side to read your words, laugh at you, and cry along with you… and maybe even provide some advice, for better or worse.
I used to intentionally embellish some of my stories, just to make Chloe laugh. Years ago, one of my emails prompted her to say, “Damn, I’m going to start a blog with all your emails, your shit is so crazy.”
“Well,” I thought, “Why should SHE start a blog with MY stories?” So, I wrote a whole entire book instead.