Come Home, Caroline
You know me. I go through friends fast, I get tired of people and I get rid of them. Remember Abby? Remember Chrissy? Four months--tops--and I can't stand you anymore.
But not Caroline and Diane. They WERE Ursuline to me, I can't drive past Cosi or Stop and Shop without thinking of all the times we spent there, skipping first mod (and second, and third), and eating breakfast at our table or a whole box of cookies in the parking lot. We've been through this, we PROMISED that we'd stick together. Well here we are, Carrie. Dia and me, in resteraunts, at parties, on the phone late at night: we're waiting for you to come home. Forget Fred, forget the city and all the filthy bars, forget the coke and cutting yourself up. I'm sorry that I couldn't take you in, I'm angry that you won't call back, I'm worried about where you are and what you're doing. I have to leave soon, you're supposed to be at my goodbye dinner tonight. You were supposed to be eating cheesecake and bemoaning Miss Natale's retirement with us last week. Answer the phone, let us help you. We both want you back so we can patch you up, so you can be OUR Caroline again. Because you are, missy. You're TUS, and you're ours, no matter how fucked up, and nothing can ever change that. We love you too much to let you fade away.
Come home.
But not Caroline and Diane. They WERE Ursuline to me, I can't drive past Cosi or Stop and Shop without thinking of all the times we spent there, skipping first mod (and second, and third), and eating breakfast at our table or a whole box of cookies in the parking lot. We've been through this, we PROMISED that we'd stick together. Well here we are, Carrie. Dia and me, in resteraunts, at parties, on the phone late at night: we're waiting for you to come home. Forget Fred, forget the city and all the filthy bars, forget the coke and cutting yourself up. I'm sorry that I couldn't take you in, I'm angry that you won't call back, I'm worried about where you are and what you're doing. I have to leave soon, you're supposed to be at my goodbye dinner tonight. You were supposed to be eating cheesecake and bemoaning Miss Natale's retirement with us last week. Answer the phone, let us help you. We both want you back so we can patch you up, so you can be OUR Caroline again. Because you are, missy. You're TUS, and you're ours, no matter how fucked up, and nothing can ever change that. We love you too much to let you fade away.
Come home.