The places the make me content are the endless rows of books at a library, a whimsical town in a Sarah Addison Allen novel, and a multitude of other places. There is not just one place that makes me content, the world is filled with amazing places from the Parthenon to Buckingham Palace. How could I choose just one? In these places I experience a rush of happiness that keeps my soul warm for a moment of bliss. The only thing that can keep that warmth and content pulsing through my veins are my friends. Wherever they are I will always be. Half the time, my hands begin to twitch with anger and annoyance when my friend's come around, ready at a moments notice to slap them silly. But that annoyance easily gives away to laughter and smiles. It's because we CAN annoy and poke fun at each other that we are close friends. After all, it's when my friends are not making fun of me that I need to worry.

However, there is a second layer to my group of lovable morons which makes me want keep them in my arms for eternity. My friends were raised in chaotic households that could even make the most hardened criminal grimace. We often laugh and joke about the peculiar experiences we've had because of the deranged families we were born into. But, sometimes those laughs turn to faces stained with tears and heartache, this is when the meaning behind my friendships clearly emerges. We have been brought together through hell and high water to pick up the pieces of each other's lives when we fall apart, we are the sticky glue that holds each other together. That and loads of inappropriate jokes fueled by plenty of Swedish Fish. I am perfectly content in any place as long as my friend's are there as well. We always help each other through every strange problem and we always make each other laugh until our sides hurt at every strange joke. None of our lives are even close to perfect, and I would never want it any other way.