I don’t know when it happened,
or how—
you went from a friend
to something more,
a sister I never asked for
but somehow always needed.
And now, standing here,
thinking this could be the last time
we share this space,
these laughs,
these stupid jokes,
it feels… bittersweet.

Three years.
Three whole years—
gone in what feels like three seconds.
How did we even start?
Oh, right—
a rivalry, or something like it.
It’s comical, really.
I still laugh when I think about
how we were ready to outdo,
outshine, out-everything each other,
and somehow, we ended up here.
Not rivals. Not even friends.
But family.

You’ve always been the kind one,
the funny one,
the weird one.
(Yeah, I said it—don’t even try to deny it.)
But also the sensitive, honest one,
the one who could light up my world
with just a few words—
kind, hopeful,
like you believed in me
when I couldn’t even believe in myself.

Your patience—
where did you get so much of it?
And why did you waste it on me?
(Seriously, I was annoying as hell.
Don’t argue—you know it’s true.)
But still, you stuck around.
Through my stubbornness, my chaos,
my everything.
And I wonder why,
but not today.
Today, I just want to say thank you.

These three years
feel like a blur now,
a whirlwind of memories,
from silly arguments
to deep, late-night talks
about life and what comes next.
And now it’s here—
the “next.”
The part where we go our separate ways,
face the world alone,
meet new people,
find new places,
take on challenges we can’t even imagine yet.

And I know you’ll be fine.
Scratch that—you’ll be amazing.
You’re strong, stubborn,
brilliant in ways you don’t even see yet.
(Yeah, yeah, roll your eyes—
but you know I’m right.
You’re just too stubborn to admit it, as always.)
I’m proud of you.
So proud it hurts,
but in the best way.

You’ve become
this incredible, beautiful woman
who’s going to do great things.
I know it.
Even if you don’t believe it yet,
you will—someday.
And when you do,
just remember
I told you so.

I wish I’d shown you more—
how much you mean to me,
how deeply I care.
But what’s done is done, right?
(No need to get all dramatic about it, geez.)
Still,
I love you.
I hope you know that,
even if I didn’t say it enough.

This feels like the end of a story—
our story.
But maybe it’s just the beginning
of a new chapter.
I like to think of it that way—
like one of those books
where the story ends,
but years later,
there’s a reunion,
a warm epilogue,
a happily-ever-after.
I like that thought—
two weirdos meeting again,
years from now,
with new stories to tell.

So, don’t be sad.
Be happy.
This is just a “see you later.”
Our story might be ending here,
but someday,
when the time is right,
our paths will cross again.
And when they do,
it’ll be one hell of a story.