“I don’t want friends who are good to me.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Nope. Came out wrong. Let me try that again.
I don’t want friends who are good to me, and then turn around and talk crap about someone else. I don’t want friends who invite me, and then intentionally leave someone else out knowing it will destroy them.
I don’t want friends who are good to me, and then treat the waitress like garbage. I don’t want friends who are good to me, and then run down their spouse. I don’t want friends who are good to me, and then center their conversation around petty gossip, who they’re mad at this week, and who did what to who and when and where and yada yada yada.
I don’t want friends who are good to me, and not good to other people.
I want friends who are good. Period.
Good to me.
Good to other women.
Good to strangers.
Good to people who can do nothing for them.
Because, for starters, if they’re bad to other people, it’s only a matter of time until they’re bad to you. ‘Oh, I would nevvvvvver do that to you,’ they’ll laugh and promise. ‘I love you.’ Yes. They will. It’s not matter of if, but when and what and to whom.
And secondly, good friends should have the ultimate goal of pushing you to be a better human.
Good friends should help you grow.
Good friends should help you achieve your goals.
You should like who you are when you’re around them. You shouldn’t regret how you acted, what you said, or the way you felt the next day.
Good friends shouldn’t just be good to you. They should be good to everyone.
Give people an abundance of grace and forgive often and easily because we all screw up but remember that flowers have a hard time blooming when they’re surrounded by weeds.
Find friends who are good. Period.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Amy Weatherly. The article originally appeared here. Follow Amy on Instagram here and Twitter here. Submit your story here, and be sure to subscribe to our best love stories here.
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‘I don’t fit in. They don’t really want me there. I wonder why I wasn’t invited. I walk up to a circle of people and don’t know whether to force my way in, or hang on the outside, twiddling my thumbs.’
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