It's odd to think how little I see you or hear from you anymore. We used to be inseparable and spoke endlessly of the excitement we felt in anticipation of going to college. We discussed our visits to each other's respective universities, how different life would be out of high school, and promised to text each other every day. I wish I could pinpoint exactly what it was that happened to us, but I can't.
Sometimes friends drift apart, even friends as close as we were. We had the same, quirky sense of humor and a weirdness like no other, but we didn't care about what others thought of us. I loved how carefree we were, never feeling the need to conform to the other girls in our class, never succumbing to the peer pressure of being a part of the "in-crowd." It was a relief to know that I would always have you by my side, watching "SNL" and wandering around Boston aimlessly.
Toward the end of our high school career, I noticed that you lost the carefree spirit I once clung to. You thrived on the attention of the in-crowd and dismissed my attempts to rebuild our friendship, to mold it back into what it used to be. And I don't blame you for that. Maybe some friendships were never meant to last, that's simply a fact of life. I want you to know that I'm thankful for the six years we spent together, the six years I was able to call you my best friend.
I hope that you're doing well and that you're happy at school. I hope you have a new best friend like I do who is loyal and funny and adventurous. And above all, I hope that maybe one day we can reconnect, for old times sake.