#monstears

i could never figure out the right things to say to make some girl in flannel skirt be my friend. HOW PATHETIC.

i.

veronica’s only friendship in the first 13 years of her life had been with betty finn, a relationship that bordered more on polite obligation than the mutual understanding and authentic bonds most childhood relationships are built upon. mike stands as the first (and most in depth) kinship veronica had, but max comes as a close second. her position as veronica first real bond with another girl makes their friendship that much more important.

ii.

the contrast between both girls is as strong as their similarities and in that, there’s a lot of space to learn from one another and connect in both areas. max pushes veronica to try things she may not have otherwise, max pushes veronica to be more ambitious and competitive and to just have fun. in 13 years, there was never a time when veronica had ever truly acted her age and having max in her life allows her that breathing room to be silly and to laugh and not take herself so seriously. alternately, both of their home lives leave something to be desired. where max seeks refuge at the sawyer home (where she has an unofficial bedroom of her own) away from the turbulence of her own, veronica finds a lot of solace in max’s presence. where they both have had trouble making friends and dealing with the loneliness that comes with a lacking home, they’ve found something a makeshift sisterhood in each other. 

iii.

      ❝        LOOK  ON  THE  BRIGHT  SIDE    ,       ❞       he   says   nonchalantly    ,         ❝       it’s   friday.       you’ve   got   the   whole   weekend   to   blow   off   steam   and   forget   the   whole   fight   thing   even   happened.       you   guys   will   be   back   together   by   monday       [     wednesday    at    the    latest     ] .         ❞        locker   clicks   shut     [  one   of   the   myriad   of   metallic    slaps   echoing    throughout    the    halls  ] ;        shared   space   had   been   occupied   by   beloved   boon   only   seconds   before    ,     however    ,      he’d   made   himself   scarce   at   the   sight   of   the      copper - freckled   tempest     bolting   through   scattered   crowds   of   students   to   approach   them.      text   book   is   tucked   under    michael’s   spindly    arm,       it’s   weight   boring   into   his   ribs.          ❝        i   don’t   know  what   you’re   so  worked   up   about.         he’s   just   gonna    spend    the   weekend    crying    to    purple  rain     ,      or   whatever    ,      anyway.      ❞