People say the most dangerous enemy is the one you don't know. I would have to strongly dissagree. The most dangerous enemy is your best friend. The one that has enough knowledge and piece of your heart to destroy you. Last year, I found my best friend. She literally knew me better than I knew myself. Not only that, but she accepted me for who I was. For my hectic swim schedule, for my confused love life, for my illogical responses to situations, and for my way of not deciding what to do. And even with all that. We didn't have to comprimise. I accepted her for her girlieness, for her love of drama, for all the laughter she brought, and for all the silent nights. We needed each other. It was really that simple, because we all need someone whom we can depend on. Someone who will have impromtu sleepovers, someone to call or text when a cute guy says something to you, and someone who just loves to laugh. This time last year, I wouldn't be writing this. I would be out with my best friend, my sister. There is something to be said about not knowing what you've got until it's gone. Never would I have imagined it would have ended this way. And though she is still my best friend, but I am no longer hers, no one will ever be closer to me. And I'm not sure I have the courage to give anyone else a try to get as close to me. My best friend moved. It shouldn't have been that devistating, but it was. Because for once in my life I had someone that I could be with and didn't have to fake a smile. I didn't feel like I had to be so rock strong. Though now, there is another person where I don't have to fake a smile, they will never understand how one can laugh for hours on end about a tic tac, nor can they fathom how happiness can be brought by hearing a little kid talk about how they picked their nose and almost poked their eyeball out. There was only one. Only one who would drag me to the pool in a bikini after I had gone to practice, only one who could sit in my room in complete silence, not doing anything, and STILL want to hang out. Only one who knows that Montrosse did it. Only one that remembers burt brownies, and beating people with meat tenderizers if they should come through the window. Only one that could change me so much that I now own a pink laptop. Only one who remembers my obession stages over guys. Maybe that one doesn't remember it. Maybe if they see this, they will laugh at it, maybe they'll cry, or maybe they'll just smile, and remember as I do everyday they are not here. So what I guess I'm trying to say is. I miss my best friend.