I wouldn’t call myself introverted by any means, but I do enjoy a good reflection on life. And yes, sometimes these points of reflection involve a juicer and a four-hour cry, and sometimes they involve feeling down and out and devoid of all the good energy. We all have those moments. They suck, you live them, and then you move on.

But more often than those days, there are days like today, where I sit and think about everything I am lucky to have. I am fortunate that I definitely have more good days than bad, and am surrounded by some of the most fantastic humans to occupy this little earth of ours.

I’m not sure of many things, but this I know: I have the most beautiful friends. They are the most loyal, weirdest, laugh-until-I-spit-out-my-food-at-a-Sunday-brunch friends. They are the most spirited, driven, ambitious, gracious and humble friends. They are the sassiest friends; some of the most back-away-slowly-because-they’ve-gone-temporarily-insane friends.

For these friends, who can change my day with just a wink and a hair flick, who talk me off of every ledge and who listen (I mean REALLY listen) to all my ridiculous rants, this is the life I wish for you.

To the women in my life:

Fuck I adore all of you. I grew up a tomboy, thinking I would never have anything in common with females.

Dear God how you have proven me wrong.

You have proven women can be offside, and fall-off-my chair hilarious. Each of you gives me something to aspire to. I am in awe of all of you constantly; you are bundles of ferocity and positive energy. You have shown me that we don’t need people to pick us up and dust us off in our darkest moments; we are more than capable of doing that ourselves. But you’ve still picked me up, time and time again and for that I am forever grateful.

For you, you vibrant, feisty, vivacious little specimens, I hope so much.

I hope as you grow up, you continue to be protectors and supporters of other women, as you’ve taught me to be. I hope you continue to compliment other women without comparing yourselves to them. I hope you don’t pick yourself apart, say your fat when you’re not fat, or push and prod at your skin. Because at some point all of our asses will jiggle, all our arms will develop those weird little flappy skin wings, so we should probably just accept our fate, laugh, high five each other and let those little wings fly.

And know that when you call yourself fat, I’ll be there to support you in the mature, poignant way I always do: By saying, “Oh my god stop it, you’re SO skinny, I’m the fat one.” (Just kidding… we’re both hot).

I hope you understand and absorb every ounce of your own worth, and only let it be dictated by the strength of your own character. And never NEVER let this worth be shaped by some barely-good looking tool who decides to not text you back.

Let’s be honest, even you know he’s and idiot with a small dick. You deserve to be looked at with admiration and respect by someone with a bigger personality and a substantially larger penis.

…Also, he probably has mommy issues. Ok, I’m done.

I hope you never have to know the hurt of a disloyal friend.

I hope you continue to actually eat pizza and not just pose with it on Instagram like all those idiots we hate.

I hope you know you are never ever alone, not for one minute.

I hope you know that you are enough, and never stand for anyone who makes you feel like less than that.

If you’re one of the single ones, I hope you always let me live vicariously thorough your ever-changing, tumultuous, fun life because after living with someone for two years sometimes I just need to hear about that first date that ended at 6am.

I hope you only surround yourself by people who make you feel good about yourself. I hope that much like you’d cut away a significant other who made you feel bad, you trim your friendships down to those people who lift you up rather than dampen your spirits.

I hope if you want to have kids, you have a whole barrel of them. And if you don’t want to have kids, I hope no one ever makes you feel guilty for it. Growing up comes with an understanding that most of the time, just having the balls to make a decision is the hardest thing. Your choices are just that: yours; no one else has to live with them. So surround yourself with people who support your choices without judgement, regardless of whether they agree with them or not.

I hope for just one moment you let me tell you what a radiant beacon you are instead of laughing and shrugging it off. It’s too easy to cast aside the compliments and concentrate on the criticisms. Hear the compliments you stubborn little fool.

For those of my female friends in relationships, I hope you fight and battle your way to absolute bliss, and never ever settle for a relationship that is, “just OK” or “fine. I hope you stay, not because it’s comfortable or convenient or because, “Well, we’ve just been together so long.”

No, if you stay, I hope it’s because the person you’re with is YOUR FUCKING PERSON and you just can’t picture life without them. You don’t have to spend your life making excuses for why someone is acting like an asshole but is actually really great. You are a partner, not a mother, and definitely not a martyr. Please don’t dull yourself to let someone else shine.

You are vibrant, you are a force; you are God’s fucking gift to men so shine on.

To all my friends of the male persuasion:

If you’ve even managed to read this far, (I assume most of you hopped off board somewhere around “small dick”) I know you think it’s easy for women to get all ranty and anti-male in their trials and tribulations. But long before I understood the value of female friendships, my life was surrounded by men. I was, “One of the dudes” not so much by choice but by overall terrible haircut, glasses, and 11-year awkward phase. No one wanted to put their mouth on this mouth, so I became the friend.

You guys don’t have it easy either, and I imagine that’s not going to change as we get older. Sure I think I have some of the most ridiculously attractive and intelligent female friends, but for every one of them there is about 72 Toronto chicks who I would qualify as ABSOLUTELY FUCKING INSANE.

This city is full of women who ask what you do for a living before they even ask your name; women who want to be taken care of because they never learned to take care of themselves; women with horrific insecurities that you end up having to carry and placate; women who view other women as competition rather than comrades.

These are not my women, but they do exist in hoards.

… You know, those high maintenance, fake tittied club rats you all seem to fall victim to.

The men I consider friends are some of the most absurdly handsome, dependable, hardworking, passionate, hopeless dreamers. They are men who I see as having such bottomless potential to be relentlessly successful in their careers and personal life.

You guys are who I go to when I need a male perspective, or just someone to tell me to get outside my own head a little. Because sometimes everything doesn’t need to be talked to death; sometimes I don’t need the in-depth study of females, or to map out a SWOT analysis for every problem. Sometimes I just need to drink too much and hear one too many testicle story.

For you guys, I hope you eventually find one of the normal ones. The girl who makes you feel secure and valued rather than jealous and taken advantage of. I hope all your hard work and charisma pays off and you are eternally successful so I can continue to let you pay for drinks without feeling guilty (It’s OK if I do it because you know I’m sticking around for life and also pay you back in wing-man capabilities).

I hope you realize that although being a man comes with certain expectations – to be strong, to provide, to win at all costs- that you will inevitably fail. And I hope you know that that these moments of weakness are as unavoidable and important as the moments of strength. Sometimes you’ll need the picking up and I hope you know that this is OK.

I promise that when you fail, I’ll be there to pick you up and once again, let you buy me a drink.

I hope you never lose your sense of humor, because there’s something about a 50-year-old man who still finds the word “balls” funny that’s really quite endearing.

Oh and obviously I hope you a never-ending stream of good, consistent sex because isn’t that the most important thing after all?

And mostly, for all of you: The new friends, the old, the ones I’ve lost touch with and the ones I had falling outs with. Thank you. Thank you for being the people I can rely on, for being the humans I disrupt people sitting next to us by laughing loudly with, who listen and care and don’t check their phone when I’m speaking to them.

Next to my family I have been molded most by you. I trust and love and fight and mourn the way I do because of all of you, and for that I will always be thankful.

I hold all of you in such high regard. You are MY FUCKING HUMANS.

Thanks for hanging in there with me you beauts, I promise to do the same.

Love Always,

E.