Do you remember when we first became friends? It was in those long hours of studying in the library, cooped up together in the same study room. Now, those memories seem like a distant blur, and it’s hard to remember that back then, we were so similar. I remember when we became friends how quickly we got along with each other. We were two birds of a feather; smart, Asian, quiet, and friendless. We had such similar interests and such similar sheltered lives. Even the way we dressed was a sign of our quiet nature, our shyness.
I always thought we were something special, the way we could always speak what was on our minds, the way I could always make you laugh and the way you could always make me smile. I remember walking down crowded streets while innocently holding your hand, and I remember thinking that you were my true love and learning that you were more than that: you were my best friend. Being around you made high school a great experience, and I know that if we’d never met, we’d probably still be those same shy kids who never dared speak up.
But ultimately, our real friendship was never about what we had in common: it was about what we didn’t. I remember when I couldn’t stand your shallow nature, the way that all you wanted was to “win and you couldn’t stand my absurd philosophies and romantic foolishness. I remember the time we argued in the high school hallway until you cried and called me the worst person in the world. Thank you for that. When everyone else acts sympathetic, you’re one of the few people I can trust to be honest. Thanks for being there and for being yourself, for the midnight phone conversation when my girlfriend broke up with me (you’re actually the only one I’ve had multiple hour-long phone calls with) and the long arguments we’ve had with each other, because now I know that you’ll always be there, and I will always be there for you.