Dear Ex-Best Friend,

It has been practically an entire summer since we've parted ways. It's been an entire summer since I busted into the cabin that I was staying in for pre-staff training, huffing because I thought you were unreasonable. It's been an entire summer since you've told your grandma and probably your cat that I was being unreasonable. Since that day, so much has happened in my life, ranging from a new tattoo to a new crush to getting ready to move to a completely different country. And I'm sure that I've missed plenty of things going on in your life, from boy troubles to anxiety to exploring majors.

We'd been friends for a long time. In that long time, we did so much together, from nights at your house making pizza and watching Lifetime movies to performing together. I'll never forget that I took my first sip of alcohol with you, how we stayed up watching Bridezillas and eating Timbits, or how we walked around Michael's arranging our future bouquets. And though these memories did, and still do, mean the world to me, I'm thankful that that era of our lives is effectively over.

I could use this medium to tell you that I don't like you. I could string together insults and negative memories, because you always said that I was petty enough to do that. But I don't want to write this letter to you to tell you the things I regret saying the day that our fight broke our friendship in two; I want to write this letter to tell you thank you.

I know those are probably not the words that you wanted to hear from me, much less the ones that you expected. But those are the words that most authentically describe my feelings for you: grateful. You see, in the two or so years that we were friends, I learned quite a bit from you about healthy relationships (both with boys and with friends), body image, and myself. Here are the things that I learned from you that I'm most thankful for.

1. No one should control you, whether it be your boyfriend or your friend.

There was a time where you woke me up in the middle of the night during a sleepover to inform me that you didn't like the way my (albeit abusive) boyfriend at the time talked to me, because you had gone through my phone. There was a time that you told me what I wanted, and there was a time that you told me what to do. You convinced me to do things that I wouldn't have done regularly, and you controlled all of the conversations and nights out. And while it sucks that I let this happen, it was a blessing in disguise: I'm more assertive with what I want now, and I don't let anyone walk over me like a doormat.

2. Friends are to be supportive, not constantly critical.

When we were friends, everything that you didn't pick out seemed to be wrong. There was a pair of low black heels that were adorable, that you made fun of. There were boys/actors that I thought were gorgeous, but you judged me for having petty crushes on them. You judged my major, clothes, hairstyle, eyebrows, everything. You practically had a hernia when I announced to you that I had made the decision to become a Catholic, because it was your stern belief that all Catholics were bigots, and you constantly urged me to transfer colleges, because you thought Missouri turned everyone into a racist. In retrospect, I'm thankful for these criticisms, blatant or phrased in a way that was supposed to be helpful. Not because they made me change all these things about me, but because they allowed me find friends that made me feel good.

3. My mental illness doesn't define me.

There are days where I don't feel any motivation to get out of bed, and there are days where I physically can't. There are nights that I stay up, because my heart is beating fast and I'm scared about things that I can't define. There are days where I feel like giving up, because everything seems unbearable and stupid. And there are days, ones that happen more often than not, where I obsess about how much I weigh and skip a couple of meals, or I eat so much that I feel like I have to throw up. When we were friends, you had those days too, and I'm sure you still have them. But you thought of yourself as the girl with mental illnesses, and you let them define you. You defied all help because you didn't want to, or didn't think you could, get better. That taught me that I am not the girl that hates herself, but that I'm a girl that is so much more, and just happens to be depressed and anxious. You taught me to seek out solutions.

4. Boys are not the most important thing in the entire world.

Like, half the time that we talked, it was about boys. It was about your exes or your sexual escapades, or about the boys you were crushing on. It was about your Tinder account, your dates, your future wedding. You were destroyed when boys broke up with you, or if they did committed some minor misstep against you. You wanted college to be about boys, not about academics or your career. I hated seeing you all broken up about it, and I knew that I never wanted to be in the same situation. You taught me that boys aren't the entire world, and that their breaking up with me wasn't the end of the world. This has let me have so much more fun with my friends, and made me so much better at school. Yeah, I still dated and have had crushes, but you were always in the back of my mind, and I realized that being single is A-OK.

5. My weight doesn't matter and I don't need you to tell me that it isn't OK.

You were always really bad about how much you weighed, in terms of your body image. Unfortunately, that rolled over into your thoughts about my weight. There were days that you thought I was too skinny, and had me stuff my face with mozzarella sticks at TGI Friday's. There were days where I was too fat, and had to go on the same vegan paleo diet that you're on. That led to a development of troubles with not eating, and binge eating. It's been hard to cope with, but I realized that my weight doesn't define who I am, and that I want to be remembered for the things I did and the lives I've touched, not how thin my thighs were or if you could see my collarbone.

6. I'm not you.

This is the final, and most important thing that you've taught me. I am who I am. I'm not boy crazy or artsy. I'm not rebellious and my attitude problem isn't my strongest personality trait. I'm not a sidekick, and not content to let someone else try to define who I am or what I care about. I don't have to fit into this mold that you've set out for me, because that's honestly not who I am. I want to be myself, not someone else.

So, ex-best friend, I'm wishing you well. I hope that you're living your life the way you want to live it, and I hope that you're making good choices. I hope that you are genuinely happy. Thank you for our memories, the good and the bad, and thank you for all the things that you've taught me.

Love always,

Your ex-best friend