Honey, you're like a bad movie - you just. Won't. END.

Dear Blondie,

This has been very difficult to write, but it is something that I have needed to say for a long, long time.

We were close longer than I expected us to be – since I was thirteen and you were fourteen – and the fact that this friendship is over makes me sadder than you’ll ever know. You introduced me to The Weepies and convinced me that it wasn’t such a bad idea to audition for Concert Choir, you taught me how to play Guitar Hero and were my partner in crime through most of the drama going on backstage during the musicals. I still remember all of our long walks home, and mornings with the others in the Math Office hallway, and sitting with you at prom under the rose arch, you in pink and me in black, stars above our head and pretty lights woven in through all the leaves and flowers. I still have the valentine you made for me the year I graduated high school, right in the box with the letters I kept from all our bitter, silent fights.

( I still think of you when the shuffle button brings up "For Good" on my iPod. )