Dear Madison,
We met almost 10 years ago in the junior high band room and by mere chance, really. You were this moody freshman, and I was a slightly intimidated eighth grader. At first, I was under the impression that we had very little in common, aside from both of us still existing very deeply in our emo phases (I mean, c'mon, it was 2007 for crying out loud) and a single friend: Jarred. Had I not known him since kindergarten and had you not befriended him as a fellow drum line member, it's possible that every second of this crazy, wonderful journey we've been on could've never happened. (Shout out to Jarred for coming through on that one.)
Jarred introduced us, and from that moment forward, we were off. We barely knew each other, but when you stayed at my house for the first time the night before a band competition, I knew that we had an incredibly strong bond that I couldn't quite explain. You were going through a very tough time in your life and some really drastic changes, and you sought comfort and solace in me and in my family. I was little more than a stranger to you, but you seemed to trust me almost instantly, and I was humbled, to say the very least. You were in a fragile state at the time, and I was bound and determined not be the one to break you, so I placed as much effort as I could into building our friendship.
Fast forward a few years, a handful of hair dyes, and some broken bones, and you were graduating from high school. Not only that, you were going to college over a hundred miles away - literally. We'd gotten so close, and with the distance, I was unsure about the fate of our friendship. I didn't know where I would fit into your new life, but you made a place for me. You made it a point to visit me when you were home on the weekends, and you always called and texted. You kept in touch, and I think our dedication to being there for one another was a contributing factor in what happened next.
It was my turn to graduate from high school and move over a hundred miles away for college, but little did I know, you would be there. You were transferring universities. Better yet, to MY university, and I was over the moon with excitement. You were there with me through a lot of firsts, and even though you're so gullible, you were my mentor. You walked me through my first year of college - the do's and don't's, the good and the bad, even the ugly - and I'm so grateful for that.
We got an on-campus apartment together the following year, and that's when things got crazy. For the first time ever, we were each other's roommates, and the difference between us was like daylight and dark. I vividly remember that you could literally draw a line on your side of the bedroom and mine because mine was clean and pristine and yours was littered with clothes, water bottles, and food wrappers. You couldn't cook to save your life, either, so I kept you from starving. It was finally my turn to be your mentor. To this day, you still remind me, even in the most trivial of conversations, that "you taught me that" or "I learned that from you." Whether it was how to cook ground turkey or why you shouldn't have accidentally dropped that brand new blue tank top in with your whites, I was always teaching you something, and even though you may not realize it, the satisfaction that I felt from showing you how to do the smallest things and seeing how excited you were to learn set me on the path to becoming a teacher. You changed the entire course of my life, and I'm so grateful.
It was in that year and the following ones that our friendship really blossomed, because for the first time in our lives, we struggled together. I watched you fight tooth and nail against your anxiety and depression only to reach the realization that I myself had both, which would later be confirmed by my doctor. I watched you struggle every day to balance coursework with your involvement on campus and in Greek life all while riding out panic attacks and the desire to not even get out of bed. You managed your disorders to the best of your abilities, and I was just a hot mess - still very deep in denial that I had a mental illness that was beyond my control. But you helped me to realize that it was okay to be broken, and in turn, that it was absolutely possible to be fixed. You showed me that seeking treatment for my anxiety and depression was perfectly acceptable and the strongest thing I could do. You were - and still very much are - my inspiration.
The whole premise of this letter is that your 23rd birthday is fast approaching, and that day marks another year that your amazing parents brought you into existence and into my life. You have become more than one of my best friends - you're family. Our moms don't think we were switched at birth for nothing! You don't hesitate to let yourself into my house and invite yourself over for dinner because you feel at home here with me and my family. My parents love you - my mom even calls you her kid, and they'd do anything for you, just like I would.
When I asked you what you wanted as a gift for your birthday, you said - and I quote: "what I really want is you to write an article about our friendship or something! Unless that's weird." But I didn't think it was weird at all. I thought it was a really sweet gesture. That is, until you said, "And then I can print it and put it in our photo album," but I replied with heart eyes emojis, so we leveled the playing field of weirdness.
All in all, the past ten years have been incredible, and I can't wait to spend the next seventy with you. I love you, and I hope you have the best birthday!
Love,
Amanda
