Dear Best friend,

You know who you are. You are the beautiful girl in the back of the class, who keeps to herself, but is still strangely likable. You are the girl with the piercing blue eyes and dark, dark sense of humor.

Dear Best Friend,

I know you literally are always willing to listen, whether it is talking about our mutual crush on that guy in our favourite class, or complaining about society, or my parents, or when I just need to talk about the weather to distract myself from the looming fear of everything going wrong.


Dear Best Friend,

I still remember when you first told me about your depression. I had always sort of known, but hearing you say it out loud, I honestly didn’t know what to do, because I don’t want you to end up like me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to turn to sharp inanimate objects, I don’t want your world to be dark, hopeless, I don’t want you to fall because depression is a slippery *****, trust me. I don’t want you to forever be broken. I don’t want you to be scared.

I just don’t want you to end up as ****** up as me.

Dear Best Friend,

I know I’m not perfect, I’m not even close, and I ***** up... A lot. But I will do what ever I can to ALWAYS be there for you. I will always be the dorky, idiotic, annoying sidekick.

Dear Best Friend,

You are beautiful, don’t let anyone, ever tell you otherwise. Especially not some 12 year old boy with a stupid haircut.

You are short, there is no denying that, but so is Billie Joe Armstrong and we still think he is the hottest thing since wood stoves.

You have blue eyes, that I know you think are weird, but they are like oceans only not as dark.

Your hair is almost as straight as the members in half the bands we listen to, but each curl falls in it’s own special place

You are beautiful, stunning, breath-taking, and every other synonym for that word.

Dear Best Friend,

I’m sorry you have to put up with me when I am like this. I know I should just bottle it up, but for whatever reason it always seems like I can’t stop the words from escaping. I’m sorry, I am so so sorry that you have to deal with me.

Dear Best Friend,

I really want to smack you upside the face with a brick sometimes. But I won’t, because I am more scared of you hitting back than I am of doctors (and that’s saying something)

Dear Best Friend,

I promise that I will always be there as long as you need me, whether it’s in the middle of the night or when I am thousands of miles away with timezone barriers between us, just call me. When you are scared, call me. When what you are scared of is yourself, call me. When you need a friend, call me. When you want to gush about your new boyfriend, call me. When you want to just chat, call me.

Dear Best Friend,

At this point I think of you more like a sister that a friend.

So, Dear Sister, I love you so much. Thank you for showing me that even the darkest nights have a sunrise, and that those sunrises are always the most spectacular.

My dad. The words that sear a hole through my heart. The words that I focus on when I need to be angry. It’s funny how those two little words can change your day, change your week, change your life. When I was a little girl, there was nothing I loved more than hearing my dad’s boots stomp through the door. I never would have guessed that those same boots would be yelling, storming, bashing through our house, tearing it apart like a row boat in a tsunami.
You taught me how to swim, but never how to stay afloat in the sea of your lies. You were my sun, but the sun, it WILL burn you. Don’t look at it too long because you WILL go blind. Your words and lies the harmful rays, slowing killing me with kindness and light.
You showered me with gifts to hide the truth. One new book for a hidden pack of cigarettes, a trip out to eat for your 12-pack of liquor. But I was too young. Too naive to realize that my world that you built was slowing falling apart, crumbling down around me, and I was in your path of destruction.
Years later I would come to realize the reason for your lies. You never wanted me. I was the disappointment with a big red FAILURE painted on my forehead. You wanted a boy. Never a girl, and twin girls at that. This was the reason you pushed me to do baseball, have all boy friends. I was the girl you never wanted, so you tried to change me. And I let you. That was the biggest mistake of my life.
I will never get back the life I had before, one free of panic attacks, social anxiety, nightmares (on the good nights), and self esteem lower that the waist bands of some boys’ pants. You wanted to change me, and oh, did you! You ******* me up for life. So I hope you are proud of yourself. You transformed a little girl who worshipped the ground you walked on into a depressed and emotionally compromised teen. You took my dreams and you ran them over with that truck that you cared so much more about than me.
There should be no reason for me to fear whenever someone talks to me, touches me, or goes in for a hug. I should not fear high-fives or fist-bumps. And yet, here I am, scared to death of what that person is going to do to hurt me. I would like to thank you for taking that trust away from me.
So before you start to make a false past about someone again, think about what you did to me. I was your daughter, you my father. Now you are just a distant memory of a lost childhood and a nightmare of my life. You are not my father. You are the man who gave me life, and then took it away just as fast.

You say that we're fine..
But..
Will you still love me the same?
Will you still wrap your arms around me and hold me close?
Will you still help me when I'm a mess?
Will you still make me feel like I'm the only person you need?
Will you love me as much as I love you?
Because I would love it if you did.
Even if there was nothing more behind the action than a friendly gesture,
I would love it if you graced your lips upon my cheek again.
I would love it if you cuddled me in the public mall, where anyone could see, once more.
I would love it if we stayed the same, even though we're different.

They say that a person's heart
is the same size as their fist
but when you said I love you it hit
harder than your hand ever did
and I may have two black eyes
but yours are the color of fresh cut grass
and your heart must beat faster
than a hummingbird's wings
because your fist moved like
the needle of a sewing machine on my skin
but I was the one stitching myself back up
and I am covered in bruises
shaped like the hand I used to hold
but they will never hurt as much as
the last time I felt your pulse