I love her. I love that she forms another part of me, a space once devoid and empty but now bubbling with joy. I love that she’s so bookish and goofy; I love that she can keep up with my pace. I loved that she loved me and we shared that special bond. Secret handshakes, secret jokes only the two of us know, and secrets we’d not dare tell anyone else. I loved her. 

Now she is a stranger, of a different skin, a skin I don’t know, colors I can’t recognize. 

She is my best friend.

 

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