T.S. Eliot pretty much wraps it up (in Portrait of a Lady):
“You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends,
And how, how rare and strange it is, to find
In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends,
[For indeed I do not love it … you knew? you are not blind!
How keen you are!]
To find a friend who has these qualities,
Who has, and gives
Those qualities upon which friendship lives.
How much it means that I say this to you —
Without these friendships — life, what cauchemar(fr. nightmare)!”
So, wow. I’m 25. Thanks for all the birthday wishes. Life would be a nightmare without ya’ll.