When I first confirmed my acceptance to the University of Minnesota, there were a lot of things to consider.

Not only was there the staggering cost of out-of-state tuition and the drastic change in weather from SoCal, but I was also about to be leaving pretty much the only place I'd ever known, and the only people I'd ever loved. Among them was my best friend.

You can know some people all your life, and they will not make a dent in the person you become. Yet, there are some people you can know for only a few years who can change the course of your destiny. That sounds cliché, but it's definitely true. And, now, 2000 miles away from the person who was my closest confidante, I realize how entirely dependent I was on you.

I'm here in a new place, with a new circle of friends that are quickly becoming another family to me. But, every day, there are times when I turn to talk to you, and once again realize that you aren't there. Once again, I realize that even though we always promised we'd never leave each other, I ended up leaving you and moving halfway across a country.

It's been difficult for both of us, I know. You keep reminding me of how much I miss you, and the calls and texts both help and hurt.

But, I want to say thank you.

This is the greatest test of our friendship yet, and, if we can both make it through, I feel as though we'll never grow apart, never fall away from one another. There's a question I ask myself over and over again, every day that I'm apart from you, every day when there's radio silence between the two of us: I keep asking myself how I'm supposed to live without the person I would live for.

I know I've always had to walk the line between living for myself and living for other people, but I'd like to know how I'm supposed to live when separated from someone who was so constant and unyielding in my life.

You were like a heartbeat: I knew you'd always be there, no matter where I was. Now, I turn corners and it's like I'm being followed by a ghost. It's a kind haunting, but a haunting nevertheless. I know we keep discussing options for seeing each other, but we both know I can't afford a plane ticket back just to be home for two days, and you can't afford to fly out here either.

I think in the end, what I'm trying to say, is that this letter is hopefully some kind of closure. Obviously, it can't be closure, since this friendship isn't ending. But, hopefully, it puts some of those ghosts to rest.

It's not that I don't want to see you and be reminded of you, but I just can't keep turning corners waiting for you to appear. Maybe sometime soon, I'll turn a corner and you will appear. And then we can laugh and carry on as though nothing has changed.

Because it hasn't; distance won't matter in the long run. It just matters so incredibly much right now.