Dear Best Friend,

First of all, thank you. Thank you for all the late night car rides and phone calls and text rants and coffee trips. Thank you for being the first person besides my mother who I could tell anything, thank you for hearing me without judging me, thank you for making me smile without fail.

Some of my most treasured moments are of us in your Chevy truck, or my Toyota Highlander, just driving around and talking about boys. You've been here for all of them, you've listened to me gush and grieve and grow and sat by my side as I went through it all. You reminded me that I'm loved and now it's my time to tell you the same.

I mean it when I say that any boy who you'd meet would be the luckiest boy in the world. He'd better know it, too. He'd better know how beautiful and driven you are, how much you go out of your way for others and how hard you work for what you want. He'd better know how much of an inspiration you are to me and everyone else whose life you touch. You deserve the world and I'll be the judge of who is deserving of you.

You're the only one who knows what it's like to grow up in our small town, to graduate high school with the same kids we were in diapers with. We tolerated the same drama queen girls, ogled over the same tenth grade history teacher, and made fun of our eccentric tennis coach, even though you and I make awful doubles partners. You like our small town, but you understand why I won't go into the grocery store unless I'm willing to see at least three people I'm trying to avoid.

I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there when I moved to a big city. When, for the first time in my life, I missed knowing the last names of all the kids in my Spanish class. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't have called you when everything was falling apart, when I couldn't tell anyone around me because they just wouldn't understand like you would. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't text you stories of my week or rough nights as if we were back in your truck, talking. I don't know what I would have done if we couldn't go to Dunks and talk for hours after months apart.

You've been here the longest, almost 7 years, and I can't thank you enough for just being there. You've pulled me out of dark places and let me float around in your pool and forget the world around us. You make me laugh like no one else, and I still smile about the time we walked five miles home from the train station because our parents couldn't pick us up. Or the time we accidentally super-liked your high school crush on your tinder. (That was my fault, and I completely understand why you won't let me touch your phone anymore.)

I know I said it before, but I look up to you so much. You know exactly what you want in life and you've never hesitated to go and get it. Not everyone is like that, you know. You always put your family first and I'll never forget going to your grandmother's funeral, how much love was there. I cried after I left because your grandfather was alone now, and he looked so sad. But I know he's so luck you have you there for him.

Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you because sometimes I forget how integral you were to my growing up and how integral you'll be to every step forward. I love you for that.