So you are coming home.
I want to visit, but only if I can get a guarantee: that the girl I see is the one from before. I want the same dark, destructive, heart-of-gold screw-up we all love.
Don't want to think about where you've been, just going to focus on where we were. You better not mention those dumb truisms that they taught you, or start sharing your feelings about adventures in self-discovery.
I want to pretend that things are like they were--we'd laugh and rebel and just be together. You never disappeared for all those months to be fixed by some shit doctors because, honestly, I need to forget how badly that loneliness hurt and I don't think anyone needed to fix you. You're perfect and happy and so normal--if they couldn't see it, they can go to hell.
Just don't come back any different, I don't want the shadow of a best friend. Let me pretend it's still like the old days when we were messed up together and had each other to get by in a cruel world.