Every story was being made up. My true friends weren't the ones speaking. It was people who never knew me, making up stories. Even my local paper put a $1,000 bounty out for information about my whereabouts.

I have a little baby. She knows who I am. My friends know. My family knows.

As a kid, I liked making up stories, and I wrote a story about a kangaroo and a bat with Christy Chang, and she went on to become a surgeon.

You know that you're a true friend when somebody says "But what about that wart on the end of his nose?" and your honest response is "What wart?". You see true friends accept you for what you are, wart and all.

I was raised with my mother saying over and over again to me, “If your friends jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you follow them?” One time, I finally answered her, “yes, I would as a matter of fact.” It was then that I realized who my true friends were.

It is only the great hearted who can be true friends. The mean and cowardly, Can never know what true friendship means.