I hated you when we were younger. There’s no other way to say it than bluntly: I hated how you seemed to get all the attention from Mom and Dad, all of my friends when they came over, everyone who ever met you or even passed you on the street. You were this sweet little girl with these huge baby doe eyes, and I wanted you to disappear into thin air.

In my defense, as we got older, you began to prey on my short temper more frequently: you would stubbornly shout “sharing is caring” so you could play with my toys, but never share your own; you would bite and hit me, but then cry the second Cal or I even came near you; infamously, you told us dad made cookies upstairs and when we sprinted into the kitchen, we found a very confused father alone at the counter (and you with our toys back downstairs).

Me not in the mood to associate with you

I used to whine to Mom about how you were acting too much like me all the time. I had no way of knowing that this was a symptom of you looking up to me, despite Mom always replying that you were just looking up to me. I would scream at you to be your own person, and you would scream back that you were. It seemed as though once you grew up enough to fight back, we began a never-ending bicker war that just kept producing more casualties every time we fought.

I’d be lying if I said we became friends when you got to high school. We got better. By the time senior year rolled around, I knew you were an independently functioning human being who sometimes accidentally ended up with my socks. I knew when you committed to play field hockey instead of soccer in high school, it wasn’t just because I played field hockey; in a sense, your playing with me during my senior year helped me to humanize you even more. I watched you work for everything you got and knew then you had chosen my sport over yours for the same reason I fell in love with field hockey: it is the most rewarding game if you're willing to put in everything you’ve got.

You and I on my field hockey senior night

It wasn’t until I left for school that I realized how much I loved you. Without me ever really noticing, you had become someone I wanted to be friends with: sarcastic with a biting wit, you don’t relent in anything you do, be it in school, at field hockey, or on the couch finishing a season of some show on Netflix. You are so unique and genuinely you that I have no idea how I ever thought we were too alike.

I am so unbelievably proud of you and who you’ve become, Audi. More than that, though, I am so happy to call you my friend (mostly because we’re stuck together by blood for life and all, but also because I love you).

Love you in case I die!!!