Dear Lora,

You left today with me wondering when the next time I’ll ever see you again will be. It may be years from now, it may be never. On Wednesday you leave to go to a college halfway across the country, and I have no idea what I’ll do once you’re gone.

We’ve been friends for eight years, but only in the last were we close. You were my best friend at a time when I needed one the most. Sometimes I wonder if I’d still be alive if you hadn’t been that one single point of light in my life. Your laughter was the most beautiful thing about you. I can’t tell you how much time and energy I put into trying to make you laugh. A smile would make my day, a laugh my week. For a long time you were a huge part of my life.

I know it was love because I’d sit and wait in my seat in third period, looking up every few seconds to see if you had walked through the door yet. I know it was love because when that asshole broke your heart I wanted to cry with you, and every time I see him to this day I want to kick his ass. And I know it was love because no matter what happened, I could never stay mad at you. All you had to do was smile and all animosity dissolved.

I’ve told you I loved you half a dozen times, but life never goes like fairy tales. Some loves are destined to be unrequited, affection may be a one way street. It is enough to know that you loved me as a friend. It is enough to know that I’m not the only one who’ll miss the times we shared, and dwell on them in months and years to come.

I don’t have half as many as I would like, but I will treasure every moment, every memory we shared. I still remember day the rain was pounding against the window, and you and I drew comic books and passed them when Mr. Demarco wasn’t looking. You really were a terrible artist.  Or how we could have a whole conversation using only facial expressions. Or last night when you came into my tent and cuddled up against me. With my arms around you and the feeling of you breathing against me, I cannot remember a time where I felt more complete, more content. Though you claimed your love was platonic, we knew there was something extra. It was a taste of what could have been, an act of love and intimacy that I will treasure.

Thank you for everything, Lora. I could write a letter ten times as this one and still not come close to putting to words what you’ve meant to me.

Love,

Joe, age 18