It was the end of fourth grade when she moved away. My best friend in the entire world, the girl I’d known since I was two. Claire left, we both cried, and now we’re both stronger. We still talk all the time, and I always wonder what would have happened if she’d stayed.

Chances are I wouldn’t be as independent since I’d always have her to lean on. It’s not that I don’t rely on my friends and family now, but to an extent I still keep my distance. I keep a lot of my emotions to myself, though it seems like I share my life story with everyone. I write down my true thoughts in a notebook I’ve hidden in my room. It’s not a diary or journal, but more of a collection of letters that I write to different people. I’ve written them for years, ranging from small notes to pages of my craziness. I’ve hidden them all around my room, and every once in a while I’ll find one, read it, and tear it up to put the drama behind me. Mostly, they are inconsequential notes that consist of me venting about something or other, but within the silly drama are the realizations about my character, about who I think I am.

Most of them are accurate, and I’ve gotten to know myself and see my progression as a person. I’ve come a long way since my friend moved, and her absence has shaped my character. I don’t regret the change because I’m pretty content with who I’ve turned out to be so far. And when the day comes when another friend moves, or I go through a similar ordeal, I won’t retaliate as hard as I did the first time. I’ve learned to embrace change and see where it takes me.