Hey you,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

By “a while”, I don’t really mean the occasional “hey” in each other’s text messages or the Timehop Facebook shares. I mean that it’s been a while since we really saw each other’s hearts. Since we poked at the dark and dusty corners of each other’s minds that no one else ever saw. Since we danced to songs that no one else has ever heard of or played stupid pranks on boys that broke our hearts. It’s been a while since we took the ugly, broken, and dented things about us and turned them into something that only you and I could truly belly laugh and ugly cry at all at the same time – because that’s what you and I always did best.

I never really thought it would happen to me.

No one ever does, do they?

It’s okay that you’ve moved on. I guess it’s okay that I’ve moved on too. Sometimes growth means loss. And sometimes loss is okay.

But sometimes loss really sucks, and I find myself at odds with feeling it in this particular way. It has this unnerving tenacity about it – one that never fails to remind you that there’s no puzzle piece in this world that will fit that tiny little part of your missing heart quite like the first one did. I don’t like that kind of loss because it’s not loss like we imagine loss should be. It’s loss that’s quite honestly not really gone – even though it still kinda stings as if it were.

I think it’s foolish to think that a sad heart and a happy life can’t coexist. I also think it’s foolish to deny yourself a sad heart every now and then. But sometimes I wonder if you ever feel this kind of loss too. Sometimes I wonder if you dance around the painful in-betweens of “I’m fine where I am” and “But I still kinda miss it”, just like I do. Sometimes I wonder if those insignificant little everyday happenings just aren’t done justice when you tell them to anyone else, because they aren’t for me either.

Sometimes, I know that you can still read what’s on my heart better than anyone else can, even when my heart doesn’t speak out loud. But above all else, sometimes I still wish I could remind you of those things that I’ve gotten painfully good at disguising.

I still think about you. Thank you for giving me something to think about. And thank you for making that “something” a tiny collection of memories that, every now and then, throws a peculiar smile on my face, even when I have a sad heart. Oh, and thank you for thinking about me too. Your texts and Facebook messages don’t go unnoticed.

I still see you. Thank you for still supporting me, no matter how small. When you like my Instagram photos and Facebook posts, I see it. When you watch my Snapchat stories, I see it. Thank you for still being interested in my crazy, messy life, even if you’re not getting your swimsuit stuck on tree branches or spilling your wine right there with me anymore.

I still miss you. Thank you for making me lucky enough to have had something that’s so hard to say “I miss you” to. If you had never left your cute little imprint on my timid little heart back in high school, “I miss you” wouldn’t mean quite so much.

I still want you to be happy. Thank you for being just that. Thank you for being happy even in the midst of painful change, because it showed me that I can still be happy with painful change too. Change can be so good, if your heart will let it. Thank you for teaching me that. I’m still happy too.

I’m still rooting for you. Thanks for making me proud, even when your silly side shows. Keep doing cool things, working hard, and partying harder. I’ll still have your back every step of the way.

But most of all, more than anything, I just want you to know one thing:

I still love you. And thank you for still loving me too.

I think the best time to conclude letters like these is when they start to sound a little too much like a break-up letter. I’m not breaking up with you. Just want you to know that I love you and I miss you and I’m still never going to forget that time you sprayed Poo Pourri in your hair instead of hairspray.

Love you forever and always,

Your #1 chick nug, parmesan cheese, and yoga-thing partner