My whole life I had never lost someone close to me. I had friends whose family members had passed, pets, even parents. I had never gone through that horrific experience, until November 21, 2013.

We were sophomores in high school; experimenting was the norm. My best friend passed away from an overdose of fentanyl on November 21, 2013.

A.K.A the worst day of my entire life.

As her family and I surrounded her still body in the room, we held hands. The nurse cut the only tube keeping her heart beating. My hands were on her feet, holding her toes as if I never wanted to let go. My dad was beside me. He could feel the excruciating pain I was going through. As soon as the the last gasp of air was released from her body, I ran into the hallway.

I fell to my knees in front of hundreds of kids from her school.

"She's gone."

As days passed, nothing got easier. I am not here to tell you that things will get easier. In fact, they may never get easier.

I remember at her funeral, I did not cry at first. To be honest, I was still in disbelief. I stared at the slideshow of pictures being played.

"How can she be gone? How can the only friend I have known my entire life, the only person that knows everything about me, be gone?"

It was like a part of me had gone with her. I did not cry. I could not cry. It was like the tears could physically not be produced.

In just four days it will have been three years since I lost my other half, and to this day, I am still in disbelief.

So let me tell you this:

Over the years, things have seemed like they have gotten easier. Some days I can look at a picture of us and smile, some days I hear a song that reminds me of her and I will start crying like there is no tomorrow.

I have concluded, over the years, that you were put into my life for a reason.