For so many years I stood by you, held your hand when there was nothing else you could hold on to, comfort you in times where there was no one else, and always willing to help heal you when all you had were fresh scars of the pain in your life. While I was saving your life, you were my life support.

I'd like to remember our friendship the way it was. Full of support and new adventures. Pushing the limits and always doing it together. Nobody understood us, but that is the way we wanted it. You, outgoing and energetic, showing me new places in life I never knew existed while I taught you responsibility and staying true to yourself. Talking three hour walks, sometimes repeating our paths several times talking about nothing more than the simple things, who was the cutest guy in math class, how we anticipated spending the summer riding rollarcoasters and spinning around on carousels.

How things have changed. It became more and more apparent how different our lives were as the thread that held us together began to unravel. You, known for never saying no to a rollarcoasters or double ice cream sunday were talking on bigger challenges. What was once boyfriend troubles became sexual promiscuity. Scares of pregnancy were now our topics of conversations over lunch and the signs of depression in your face and eyes became more and more evident as the drugs you began to take became more and more regular.

Even still, I stood by you when others that said they would, did not. When the smoke cleared I was the one willing to pick you up off of the battlefield. I was the one that was always there while your friends of the week came and left, but I stayed true to my promise. A promise that was made in the counseling room of our high school where you tried to overdose on medication, where I took your pills away and held you back. I promised I would never leave you even after the support you had once given me had been buried with your former life.

Days, weeks, and months passed without a telephone call, without the friday nights of our regular late night adventures. They had been replaced by rumors that I heard in the girls bathroom. From you having abortions to killing yourself, I heard it all. And yet, you never called. When your mother would call me up late at night in desperation seeking any information from me, you still didn't call. These nightmarish months turned into a year and then two with no contact, not even a note.

When I heard you had finally come home, all of the anger I felt toward you diminished without a trace of it ever being there. It was if there was finally an ending chapter to the madness, yet I was kidding myself. After pouring my heart and soul into a letter that I had sent with anticipation's of a reply I was once again your doormat. Even after you found out that I had been sick with a disease that had plagued me for those two years, still not a word was muttered. No apology, and most importantly, no thank you's.

All I ever wanted was your friendship. A friendship that would return to the way that it used to be. Two incredibly different people finding a spark between them that would light a candle towards support, courage, hope, and sisterly love. I never found that in you, even afterwards as I saw you walk by my house ten, twenty times without a flinch, as if I had never existed at all. I guess our friendship didn't either.

Should have moved on a long time ago,