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BFFs. Love, a Cynic.

It was unheard of. 

A little girl who didn't believe in BFFs? But I had my reasons. I knew forever wasn't real. I learned it at school, when they told me infinity wasn't a number.

My best friend's birthday was earlier this week. I always joked that I didn't believe in best friends, but lately, I've realized that I do. Or, at least, that I did. Sometimes I worry about whether we're still as close as we once were. Whether we would have the same relationship, had circumstances not brought us together.

But then again, aren't we all brought together by circumstances?

So I thought of her as a sister instead. Because there is, after all, no such thing as a single "best friend." 
(I doubt one can truly have multiple "best friends," simply because the words "best" itself implies singularity.)

We texted back and forth on her birthday, but both of us were busy, and we couldn't talk over the phone. I was reading through some old writing (GAH!) today, when I came across a corny interesting piece of prose I found. I wrote it when I was thirteen, and I cannot help but read it with a speculative eye. Not critical. Just inquisitive. 

I was excited to see what I had to say about her back in the day. So here goes. To my sister.

Best Friends Aren’t Forever
You’re the same girl that I grew up with. The same one who lived two streets away since we were two weeks old, and I was always at your house, and you were always at mine, and when I moved, you moved to my new town a year later. You’re the girl who fingerpainted on my kindergarten homework and I didn’t care, even though we got in trouble. You’re the girl who let me cut your hair, and you didn’t care, even though we got in trouble. When I didn’t want to drink the fruit punch at a Halloween party, you finished it. And you hated cake, so you gave me yours at every birthday party we went to. We used to hide on the landing of the stairs, and watch our moms sitting on a couch at your house. And then we dropped oranges and balloons and orange balloons on their heads. And they chased us upstairs and we hid in your closet, giggling. But we’re older now. And I’ll love you forever, and you’ll love me back, like we promised when we were six, but I don’t know if we’ll be best friends forever. Because we both agree that there is no forever. And sometimes I wonder if we’ve grown out of each other. Is it weird that you rarely see anything I write? And I’m so lucky that we’ll be on good terms, but I know that the day we break apart will come. But until that day comes, I will enjoy every moment of being your best friend. And I will tell you that the past thirteen and and a half years of my life, the past one hundred sixty three months with you have been beautiful and precious. So thank you for that. Love, your best friend not-forever.

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