Dear Sidney,

I’d first like to apologize for breaking the back and forth format of our posts. I posted last so technically you should be posting next. Secondly, I’d like to apologize for how much of a first draft this piece is going to be. I don’t want you to know that I’m writing it, and you’ll definitely see it if I leave it in the drafts. I’ve even made the title different temporarily in case you get on to check something while I’m writing. Finally, I’d like to get to the point. Happy freakin’ birthday darling.

I don’t have many friends who would be willing to write a blog with me. In fact, I think you may be the only one. And I love that more than you could know. I’m aware that not every post has been a masterpiece, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but I’ve loved reading what you write. I miss you terribly, but your entries make me feel less like part of your past and more like part of your present.

If you had told me in August that our blog would still be semi-functional a full six months later I might have laughed at you. As you know I have the best of intentions and the worst of follow throughs. But there’s something about the way writing makes me feel connected to you that keeps me writing. It’s almost as if we’re back in middle school writing crappy poetry together. Even though I slog through midterms and in-class essays I still love writing with you. Even if no one ever sees our posts, I still love writing with you. Even though my eyes want to close in exhaustion I still love writing with you. Even when we’ve been at it for years I will still love writing with you.

So happy birthday Sidney. I hope 19 treats you well, and if not, it’ll be something to write about.



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