Dear Sylvia Barrows, Vanilla, Sylvz, Babysylvz–

I first met you in fifth grade when we had dance class together at our village's park district. How can I say this in the clearest way possible? You were simply the coolest of the cool. I remember staring at you while you pranced around laughing with your friends from school talking about "hottest" sixth grade boys, and of course–your obsession–the Jonas Brothers.

I added you on Myspace–to stalk you, of course–and I remember being so impressed with the way you edited your pictures and layout background and you always had the best music (and by best I mean old school Mayday Parade and The Offspring). I don't remember if it was you or me who first interacted with one another, but it was probably you, because although you were a vibrant light, you were also very shy, especially around authority. We used to make fun of Miss Helen's cheesy '80s sweaters, remember? But man, if she ever critiqued your axel, you'd smile all sheepishly, because you knew you weren't very good.

You quit dance the next year, and I remember thinking that my life would be a little bit more boring without you at the studio. But of course you wanted to hang out! You were Sylvia Barrows. You were funny. You were adventurous. But more than anything, you did what you wanted, and that type of energy was the kind of person I wanted to be around even though I hadn't grown boobs yet. OK, maybe I did, but they weren't as big as yours yet! Needless to say, we become best friends. I can't remember if that was before or after you started nicknaming me "Green Chin."

You were only a year older than me, but you grew up fast. You had your first kiss at a young age. You lost your virginity at a young age. You wanted to be old so fast, and yet with me, we acted like we were kids with bad ADHD in the 3rd grade. We were our most raw selves with each other, and that's why you were always one of my greatest and most true friends.

You always had my most sincere and genuine admiration. That's why I didn't understand why you had such low self-esteem. I believe by the time I was in eighth grade or a freshman in high school, you were in and out of the psychiatric ward at our local hospital. I remember one time specifically when I was in church, I got phone call on my cell from an unknown number. I picked up and it was you.

"Gretchen?" you said as I answered the phone.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"It's Sylvia. I'm in the hospital...again. I don't have my phone and yours is one of the only numbers I memorized."

You told me how scared you were there. You were pissed because they didn't allow razors in there and you were pissed because you couldn't shave your legs. I remember being only 14 and not knowing how to handle your situation because the biggest problem I had at that point was deciding between "stfux3" or "gretchxbetch" for my AIM screen name. You were the first person that taught me what true strength is like, as well as struggle.

Yet after all of the turmoil, depression, ups and downs, you were changed–but for the better. The scars from your past were in every laugh, every word you spoke and every life decision you made. You were Sylvia, no doubt–but you were better. You were stronger.

As I started to grow up and boys actually started liking me (just kidding, that still hasn't happened), you became my confidant. As I started to dabble in with the opposite sex and girls talked sh*t behind my back–you were there for me to talk to, and I knew you would never tell a soul with whatever I told you. You knew how much you meant to me, and you never wanted to ruin that, and you didn't.

I remember one time this girl–who had once been my friend–followed me into my school's parking lot after a football game cursing me out and calling me degrading names. As soon as I told you, you said:

"Who is this girl?! Who does she think is? Is she really trying to mess with you right now?"

You got all worked up, and more than anything I was so appreciative of you. You were always there for me, even when I was getting called a skank in the parking lot for giving oral sex. You were nothing short of amazing.

But you know what was funny? Depending on what the situation was, you could be really serious and get so deep into a conversation with me it was like the world around me would disappear. Nothing else mattered; just us in that moment just talking. Or sometimes we'd act like complete middle schoolers, just like in fifth grade, and the same feeling would occur, yanno, the world disappearing, but in a different light. I would laugh until my stomach ached and I couldn't breathe. You were the one that made that happen, and no one else.

Those bandages we had on our faces had swear words on them, and we thought it was the coolest thing ever.

As years went by during high school, you and I went on different paths. You were working, going to community college, hanging out with your boyfriend, and just doing your thing. I didn't hang out with you as much because I was living in my own little world, and you'll never know how much I regret that.

The last time I saw you was October of my senior year of high school. We sat in your garage, puffing away and making Vines–acting like we were fifth graders (well, maybe not the middle part) again. I never realized how much your personality brought so much liveliness to not only me, but to everyone you were around. You brought something out of everybody (don't worry, it was mostly good!). And that will be something that will be very, very missed.

Life is crazy, as cliché as that sounds. Two weeks ago I saw a SnapChat you sent me of you driving on Cicero and now you're not here because you were a passenger in a car that got hit. Everyone survived, but Death decided you were just too good to live. You had to go somewhere better, because you were truly always above everyone in mind, body, and spirit. So now I have to accept that you're going to spread that beautiful soul around somewhere else. Just know that I will miss you so much, my dear friend. I'll miss you spiking my 7-Up liter with vodka when I was only thirteen and I thought you were out of your mind. I'll miss you constantly wanting to take pictures together, even when neither of us looked cute. I'll miss you scrunching my hair with gel to make my hair wavy, but I ended up looking like a wannabe chola. Man, you embraced the moments we had together, and because of that, you have forever changed me.

I love you, sweet angel.

Gretchen