I love Taylor Swift.

You do too.

It was something we bonded over for a while, except when we would disagree on which album was best; you would say Speak Now, I always said 1989, no one argues against me about that anymore.

I miss the way I could fully be myself with you, your friendship brought out the absolute best in me.

Now, I listen to “dorothea” and think about you. She sings all the lyrics I wish I could say to you, but we aren’t that close anymore, and you’re more of a folklore fan anyway.

It’s funny to think there is a good chance you won’t read this, but strangers will, peers will, and friends will, and none of them will know what I’m talking about.

I see things that remind me of you, things that if we were still close, I would snap a picture and send to you in hopes that you would find it just as amusing as I did, things that bring back memories I had convinced myself weren’t that special to me anymore, but they are, and deep down, I know that.

I hear songs, songs we claimed our own, specific songs that we had distributed evenly between the two of us to create our own duet while singing in the car.

I still don’t sing your part in our songs.

It’s strange how people change and grow, and it’s weird to think I was in the passenger seat of your car only 7 months ago before anything had changed, but that’s what’s funny.

You haven’t changed.

And neither have I.

I think the reason I have such a hard time accepting this end is that there was no clean break, we slowly faded away, from hanging out outside of school to talking in the hallways, to just the exchange of a smile or a wave when we pass, and now almost nothing.

Your birthday is engraved in my brain.

Last year, I posted a collage of about twenty photos of us for your seventeenth birthday, with text in between the photos.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! To my favorite person ever! Love you!”

Your favorite color,

favorite animal,

and favorite songs.

All those things are etched in the back of my mind with what feels like no use anymore.

It’s things like that I miss about our friendship, delusional late-night calls, random photo exchanges, but most of all having an immense, unspoken appreciation for each other.

I know I will miss you for a while, perhaps I always will,  but I also know you’re going to do great things with or without me.

People change, and though it feels unfair, I cherish the time I had being your closest friend.

But if the time comes, I promise, “it’s never too late to come back to my side,” and “if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know, you’ll always know me.”