I've been wanting to write one of these for you for such a long time now. I mean, I think it's only fair since we essentially have spent our lives together. At least once, I feel like I have to pull off some grand gesture to show my undying affection for you. The thing is though, I've been trying to plan out what I want to say to you for awhile now - at least a few weeks. You would think I'd be a fountain of love and kind words by now, what with how many years we've known each other. But, as I write this, I have literally no idea what the hell I want to say to you.
It's not that I don't care about you. No, I've spent practically my whole life caring about you. It's just that I feel like anything I want to say to you was probably already said years ago. It's been almost 14 years with us. I think, at this point, you and I are passed the point where words are needed. You go down in history as one of the few people I can hang out in comfortable silence with. We don't have to talk all the time. We can watch TV and make eggs and just live our lives together, without ever having to say a word. I love that so much about you; more than you will ever know. I really think you know me better than the people in my own family sometimes, and I hope you know that.
Ours is a relationship based solely on proximity that turned into something beautiful. 14 years ago, we bonded in a classroom, at a lunch table, because we saw each other every day. As kids, we were the same person. Knowing I had you was what held me together on the days when talking to people was just way too hard for me. When you moved, I specifically remember wondering what it would be like, not seeing you everyday. I thought we would drift. I thought you would find new friends and oh-so gradually forget that I ever existed. Safe to say, I relied on you a lot, my friend.
To be completely honest, I'm a little surprised that you've stayed around this long. Now that we don't get along or I didn't think we would last, it's just that you're not the same person that you were in elementary school. You're not my old, equally insane, partner in crime, you evolved. You grew up so much, and in the best way possible. You're mature, poised, stoic. A perfect balance to the complete mess that I am, and always have been. The years have made you quiet, and I have to admit that does worry me sometimes. I wonder what you think about. I wonder if - at times - you had to grow up too fast. I don't want you thinking that you always have to be the stable one. I know that emotional instability is kind of my thing, but you're allowed to have a turn once in a while. You've done so much for me over the years, I want to be the one to help you when you need it.
I guess, right now, if there's one thing I could say to you that I haven't already, I would say that there's a pretty big chance that I wouldn't be me without you. For more than half of my life, you've been there. Through every huge heartbreak and tiny family fight, you've been there to pick me up, brush me off, and help me to move on. You - my love - are a constant. After you moved, I could go weeks without talking to you. We did our own separate things and lived our own separate lives. But I knew that if the time ever came up, I could pick up the phone and you and I could pick up right where we left off. You know, if you think about it, you and I are basically stuck with each other at this point. I have too much dirt on you and you sure as hell have too much dirt on me. But I like our arrangement, this whole friends-by-default thing. I would not be who I am today without you.
I don't remember exactly how we met, I just know that I'm glad that we did. I don't remember if you sat down next to me at lunch and offered me a clementine or if we bonded over a mutual love of gym class dodge ball. All I know is that, in the past 14 years that I've known you I've been content. You've been there for every important moment in my life so far, and I plan on you being there for every important moment to come. Unless you do something unspeakably evil, you're stuck with me. But, who am I kidding? If you committed murder, with enough convincing, I'd probably help you hide the body. I want you at my wedding. I want you holding my hair while I puke out my insides on my 21st birthday. Whatever may happen, I want you there. And I always will.