It's funny how friendships work throughout grades K-12. I was close to a large, diverse group of children in elementary school, including my now-best friend Klara (or as I refer to her as, my coolbest friend in Germany.) Everyone was friendly with one another, except for the occasional name-calling and practices of exclusion, but then middle school happened. As time passed, my friends were chosen for me by my parents, by the sports I played, by the clothes I wore, by the house I lived in, by the insignificant commodities that "chose" my friends.

Middle school was a time of change, awkward growth, and loneliness despite the "friends" I thought I had. None of us knew who we were and since we were all so uncomfortable with ourselves, we didn't bother to reach out to others who seemed a little different than ourselves. Hence, my current best friend and I forgot about each other's existence.

And if there is one thing I could miraculously do, I would go back in time and never stop being friends with her because losing her was the worst decision I made.

However, we never really lost one another. My senior year of high school came with a lot of change and heartbreak, I felt alone, but oddly enough Klara tapped my shoulder, smiled, and her hug cured everything. We didn't talk since elementary school, but when I lost everything, she was the only one standing there.

I'm forever grateful for someone like her to accept me for who I am. For my flaws. For my tears. For my sporadic dancing. At a time of need, she helped pick me up and embraced me into her own group of friends who have now become the kind souls I choose to surround myself with. We all agree that she is the Wise One, and I should have realized this earlier, but I'm proud to have her by my side as we push each other to be the best version of ourselves. Most importantly, we don't compete, only motivate, support, and, of course, make fun of one another.

I will never forget crying and sitting cross-legged on my living room carpet as Klara distracted me from my pain with one of her ludicrous stories. She's the first person I called that day and I'm so happy I did because we sat there for hours and that's exactly what I needed. Since then, she's never and, more significantly, will never leave my side (I won't let her.)

Although Klara is far away in Germany becoming a stronger, more independent, crazier woman, she will always have a place in my heart.

And you, Klara, better know this:

I will always be here for you—helping you choose the next color to dye your hair or to give you a pick-me-up when you need or to yell at you when you annoy me as you slap my ass to wake me up from my beauty sleep.