You learn so much about friendship by being bedridden for a week with a bad lower back strain.
You have a friend who you called and she is worried enough to call every tom, dick and hairy to look for you to make sure you are okay when you were hit with a sudden lower back attack.
You have two friends who accompanied you to see the doctor and paid for it, then packed some food for you to last a few days. After that, there were no news from them whatsoever until you sms-ed one of them for more assistance, only to be turned away and to be questioned why you are still on medical leave.
You have a friend who called you now and then every couple of days to make sure you are okay.
You have a friend who after you called only once, came to your house and chit chatted with you even though she was rushing for time, buying for you a few reload cards and a packet of rice. Within the one week you were bedridden, she even sms-ed you regularly before bedtime to make sure you are okay.
You stated your intention of wanting to counter voice for the LGBT community via GPRS in regards to an ex-gay seminar, only to be lambasted for it, uncharacteristically accused of “attacking” another friend, having words being put into your mouth, and accused of “passive aggressive behaviour”.
You asked for help from one friend for financial assistance and he asked no questions. This friend has been giving and giving, big and small, for the past three years. A friend to die for. You asked for help from another friend for financial assistance and she said no, even though you know she can, but you already knew that when you asked for help from some people too much, they just get sick of you.
You suddenly received an sms, saying that there is a bottle of distilled water and a packet of chicken rice outside your door. You have a person running around to pack this and that for you when she is around.
You. Yuki. Have. Friends. And “friends”. Or friends? Maybe 'friends'. Whatever. People are different. So are FRIENDS.