Letter to a Friend

I love you.
This isn’t about a relationship. It’s not about the want of a relationship. And for God’s sake, this is not about a boy.
No, this is about love. A significant love. The kind that has nothing to do with romance. It’s not the kind you form because you want to fulfill some day dream or some idea stirred up by an author and thrown at you in the form of a novel. It’s not the obligatory kind you are forced to form from birth, from family. It’s none of those. This love is the kind you form out of a will, out of admiration and care and the concerns for another that matches if not surmounts those you have for yourself.
This is my favorite sort of love. It’s the kind you form for a sister not by blood but rather by friendship. It’s the kind that teaches you about who you are, who you want to be, and what you want. It’s the kind you have for your bestfriend. The kind that makes that other person almost another extension of yourself. The kind that makes you bounding in excitement when something goes well for either of you, the kind that pisses you off when justice deals the other person a bad turn, the kind that makes you able to read one another’s minds not because you are the exact same person but because you have put in the time and committment to know one another. It’s the kind that can withstand those moments and those differences you have when your head can’t comprehend why in the hell you two are friends but you just know better. You know that your love for that person goes beyond something human.
That’s how I love you. In all of those ways and for all of those reasons and about a thousand more. It’s the reasons I compliment you on and the complaints I lay against you and just every thing else. While I would love for there to be a more just world, for things to be easier for you, I fear it all the same because there isn’t anything about you I would change simply because I became your friend and best friend for a reason. Before anything could ever make...