Dear You,

I’d like to start by saying I’ve read a million of these articles in the past, but none do justice to us. We weren’t a whirlwind friendship that happened out of the blue. We weren’t quick to lite and quick to burn out. We were sisters, we were best friends and we were each other’s person. We survived high school together. You were the first drama-free friend I ever had. We never fought, we always listened, and most importantly, we never gave up on one another.

So how did this happen to us? We were supposed to be inseparable — me and you against the world. I really don’t know. You and I were harmoniously different, and if I had to put a reason on the demise of our friendship, it’d probably be that. You were loud, and outgoing, wanted to party, wanted to make new friends — and then there was me, a shy, quiet little bookworm who only needed you and a glass of wine to have a good time. Together, though, we made the perfect pair. I simmered you down, and you spiced me up. It doesn’t really matter how good we were though because it obviously wasn’t good enough to last.

We managed to make it through two years of college as best friends, and in my opinion, that’s a pretty good run. The truth is, we were just too different, and once we started to grow into the adults we were going to become, we started to fall apart. Conflicting schedules, different majors, different relationships, different us. I remember the last time I was over at your place. We were sitting on the couch, eating popcorn (as always), and watching "Girl Code" on MTV. Your boyfriend was going to be out of town that weekend, and we had made plans to have a girls' night — you know with the nail painting, the face masks, the gossiping and the dramatic movies. I gave you a hug when I left; I told you I missed you; I told you I couldn’t wait for the weekend, and we never spoke again. You probably don’t even remember that.

I’ve thought a lot about you lately. We went from posting photo collages on each other’s walls and going on dates every Wednesday to the Olive Garden for lunch to now just the seldom like on the occasional picture and averted eye contact when we see each other in public. We never fought; we used to have that “twin-telepathy” from spending too much time together. I knew you like the back of my hand, and now we can’t even look at each other. When I see you, it’s so strange because I don’t know you anymore. I know your favorite movie used to be "Good Fella’s," and I know what eye shadow you used to use, and I know what your favorite brands were, and I know that you used to crave Sour Patch Kids and that you bought them by the pound, and you used to chew Hubba-Bubba in the watermelon flavor, and we used to go for breakfast and you’d always order “The Mess” and I’d always get the waffle, and I know that you used to wear Warm Vanilla Sugar from Bath and Body Works every day — but all of that could be different now. I look at you and remember all of the parts of your life that I know so well (even today), and I just feel sorry.

I shouldn’t feel sorry. We didn’t end because of a fight. I never upset you. What I’m sorry for is that I didn’t fight — neither of us did. We had such a good thing going, and we both just gave up. And maybe that’s alright. I wonder if you ever find yourself thinking of me, what I’m doing, if I still have that expensive nail polish collection or if I still love American Beauty (the answer is yes, of course, I do). Maybe somewhere down the line, we will find ourselves rekindling, but for now, I’m just so thankful for all of the times you were there for me, all of the times that we spent laughing, and talking, and all of the memories that I will never forget.

— The person you never thought you’d lose either