Hi.

It has been a while — a long while if I’m being honest with myself. We haven’t talked since before our high school graduation. Sometimes, it still doesn’t feel real that our seven years of friendship is over. I took all of our inside jokes, memories, and stories, and I neatly folded them up and put them inside a little box. I took this box and I shoved it as far away as I could in my mind because it’s too painful to think about everything that was formally known as “us.”

You were more than my partner in crime. You were my other half. I always knew what you were thinking and you always knew everything I was about to say. You were the Blair to my Serena and although we were so opposite, we worked so well together. You kept me sane and I kept you wild. You pushed me to stay focused and I pushed you outside of your comfort zone.

When you decided to end our friendship, I didn’t just lose you and you didn’t just lose me. I lost your family. Your mother, who I sent flowers to when she became a U.S. citizen, who made the most amazing Hispanic food in the entire world. Your Abuela, who made me a cavewoman costume in one night so we could wear matching outfits during Spirit Week, who always made sure to hug and kiss me whenever I would come over. You lost my family. My mother, who always let you gossip to her on what boy you liked or what girl you were on the outs with, who was always ready with her camera to take pictures for us to upload to Facebook and Instagram. My Gram and Poppi, who drove you to school whenever you didn’t feel like taking the bus or had to go in early, who included you in every dinnertime conversation, asking how you were, even long after you stopped returning my calls and terminated all that we were.

We were together every weekend; whether it was for an event we volunteered at or just a sleepover, we were inseparable. You showed me that avocado with olive oil and salt is the best snacktime treat and that I should never lose myself in a guy. You showed me that it’s OK to disagree, and it’s healthy to argue from time to time. You showed me that it was possible to trust someone with everything and anything. I hope that I maybe showed you some of these things, too.

Essentially, we both know where things went wrong. You have your side of the story and I have mine, and neither half ever lined up with the other. I understand that you believed differently than me, but that doesn’t make anything easier. One day you were my best friend, and the next, you weren’t.

I think what hurts me the most is knowing how hard I fought for our friendship and realizing that nothing would be enough. You gave up on us the minute things went wrong, and you didn’t even try to salvage “us.” You had your new friends, and you moved on like I was part of your distant past.

The rest of our senior year, I tried my hardest to lose myself in other friends, my schoolwork, and parties — anything that would keep me busy. I tried my hardest to leave you behind like you left me. That box, though, was always tucked away in the back of my mind. You were such a huge part of my life for so long. I used to think that one day you would be the girl I would call after I got engaged, that you would be a bridesmaid in my wedding, that you would be the Godmother to my first-born. You see, when I planned my future, I never thought that there was even a chance that you wouldn’t be part of it.

I guess that out of all of this, if you ever happen to stumble across this letter to you, I just want you to understand that I still think of you sometimes. I wonder if you still want to go into the health field and how your family is doing these days. I want you to achieve everything you set out to do. You are such a brilliant person that I know you will do absolutely wonderful things in this world. I hope you never lose your goofy side, and I wish you will one day find a person who will cherish and love you forever.

I might not be your best friend anymore, but you will always stay mine.