You walked into youth group like you owned the place with your mother not far behind you. It was the 6th grade. I couldn't stop staring at you. You hung out with the gothic kids in middle school.
I hung out with the nerdy kids in middle school. On my birthday we slept over at your house in town. You chose me to be your best friend. You came from a rich family. I came from a poor family. You were an artist, I was a creative writer.
In the 7th grade you brought new friends who came from rich families to youth group. When they started bullying me, you fought for my honor and starting bringing your gothic friends to youth group. You the creative indie, goth girl and me the creative nerdy girl. We broke societal norms. I never doubted your instincts for one second. You moved away to Bloomington-Normal and you were excited. But you kept coming back for me. On my birthday we went to the Rockin' Lockin'. You brought a crowd and I adored every minute with you.
In the 8th grade you moved back to Ohio, you came back for me. You had your spark in your grayish-blue eyes. Girls wanted to be you and boys wanted to date you. Yet you chose me as your best friend.
In my freshman year of high school, church wasn't the same without you even youth group seemed empty without you. You were my missing piece. You came back before my birthday. You slept over at my place and went to the Rockin' Lockin' together as always. 5 days before my birthday I loss you, my best friend.