You WERE my best friend, anyway. We were inseparable. Being two years older than me, you were also my role model and like my big sister. But I noticed things about you. Things that made me upset and confused, but I cared too much about you and our friendship to say anything. So, for a while, things were great. And then as I grew and got wiser, I realized that you were using me. I was your boredom-breaker. When you had a boyfriend, you pushed me away. When you broke up, you needed me again. Still, I pushed this away, because I give people chances, and I cared so much about you. Then, you went through a really rough time. You knocked on my door one night, bawling your eyes out, saying that you almost did something really bad and that you needed help. My parents and I let you spend some time at our house, and told you that you needed to go to the hospital, that they would help you more than we could. We told you you weren’t crazy, you were just depressed, and that sometimes the brain doesn’t make enough chemicals to make you happy. We told you the hospital would help all of those things. So you went, and you got better. You were bipolar, but they gave you medicine to regulate it, and you were great for a while. But then things got bad again. Your parents brainwashed you and convinced you that medicine was bad, and told you that “a multivitamin is all you need”. So you started getting paranoid again. You became infatuated with your boyfriend, and pushed me away again. Then, when you two broke up, you expected me to be right by your side. And I was. But I also had a boyfriend, and school, and riding, and family, and I was leaving for camp soon. It was hard to balance it all, but I tried my best to include you in my life, because you were my best friend. I went to camp, things were fine. Or so I thought. 6 weeks later, when I got back home, your jealousy was worse than ever. If I couldn’t be at your beck-and-call, you got angry. Things got awkward and rocky between us, but I knew these things happened between best friends sometimes, so I decided to let you cool off and then talk to you about our situation. Little did I know, you had a different plan. You unfriended me on Facebook out of nowhere. I texted you, incredulous, asking why, and you replied “you weren’t talking to me and I don’t want to be friends with someone I don’t talk to.” It was unreal. You were 19, an adult, and you were acting like a 10 year old. I knew that you hadn’t been taking your medication, and that that had a lot to do with the way you were acting, so I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. I told you best friends can still be best friends without talking or seeing each other all the time. Gaps can appear, shit happens, but true friends will always be there for each other. You still didn’t get it. You said that I never paid any attention to you anymore. I then told you that I saved your life. Without my family, I honestly don’t think you would be alive. We helped you. We took you in and gave you everything. And we didn’t recieve a single thank-you. Nothing. Instead, I got the opposite. You apologized, but it was irrelevant. There was no way I could trust you again. Disability or not, I can’t be friends with someone I can’t trust. And that killed me more than anything. It still does, because I still care the shit out of you. And now, you’re in Afghanistan. You’re fighting for our country. You’re fighting for me. And now I’m disgusted with myself. I know I shouldn’t be. I know none of this is my fault. But I don’t think I would be able to live with myself if something happened to you and the last thing I said to you was absolutely nothing.