:dear best friend//….



Dear Best friend, she writes.

“I honestly don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here to help me out in the darkest possible hours.” she scribbles. “When I first met you, in the most weirdest encounter I could imagine, I had no idea I’d be meeting that one person who’ll end up being my constant support,” she continues.”I lack words to state the extent of importance you hold in my life and in my heart and no matter where we are, and what we do, and who we end up with, I’d always know that there’s someone who’d still wake up at 3:00am to answer my calls, someone’s who’d stay up till 6:00 in the morning with me, make me laugh, say things to cheer me up when I feel down. I’d always know there’s someone who genuinely worries about my health, my mood, my life.” She pauses a minute, a smile playing on her lips. “I’d always know there’d be someone to pick me up when I fall down, although after having a good laugh, but believe me, I’d do anything just to see you smile. Not a day goes by when I don’t Thank God for taking away all those who never were my friends, and replacing them with you. Because today, I wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t for you.” She takes a sip from her coffee, her iPod rings. The screen displays a picture of a teenage guy with an unbelievably huge smile. The name bar read “Bestestest friend.” A smile tugs the corner of her lips as she sees the time. 3:00am. “We are so different, yet same. When I lose my head, you keep your calm. When I leave, you wait. When I smile, you laugh. When I cry, you seem upset. If I don’t eat, you want me to eat. If I eat, you end up calling me fat. So hard to understand yet to too easy to contemplate.” Her iPod rings again. She swipes her screen only to be welcomed by a poker face stating “Where in the name of heaven are you?”. She shakes her head. “Sorry, I slept.”

She returns to her writing. “If there was one thing I’d like to give you, it’d be the ability to see yourself from my eyes so you’d know what you mean to me.” She puts the full stop., draws a tiny apple by it, shuts her diary, drains the last of her coffee and hits reply.


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