Best Friend J,
I don’t write about you much because here, on this blog, I write mostly about the woes in my life. I write what bothers me or other nonsense in my life that stresses me or things not of huge importance. Not that what I write doesn’t mean anything to me, because it does. It means a lot. As do you.
I don’t write about you often because the jokes you and I have are insiders only, things others wouldn’t understand immediately. Without explanation, and explanations ruin the joke. They are for us; sort of a private code you and I share. You may not feel the same, but I do. I know my other friends wouldn’t understand batman pictures or that messy rooms are okay. I do.
Goodbye Best Friend J. Goodbye to afternoons in your room and dinner at your mothers. Remember that time when she took us to that Korean restaurant and she got me drunk on sake? That was a fun day. I will miss those days.
You were the first to get me to a Chipotle. You told me the exact amount of three chicken tacos. And even though I don’t remember that amount right now, I still remember that day.
I hope you will remember. My best friend.
I know the next four years will be amazing and full of adventures. Something I am so happy for you to have because I will be on my own journey. We will still have long talks, share Chipotle, however, now it won’t be together.
I know you will be happy and have the time of your life. And even though I hate writing that cliché, I know it will be.
You make me proud. I love you. I miss you already.
Always,
Ry
