I felt the need to write this.

Dear Kristin,

I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss you and how much I wish you were here. I think about you every single day. I think about the first time I talked to you. I remember I told you I liked your sweater and from then on whenever you saw me you'd come hug me and talk to me. I think about all the times you sat with me and played Connect-the-dots, tic-tac-toe, MASH, and all those games every little kid plays. I think about you telling me about your boyfriends and your friends. I think about that time you were sick so instead of riding the bus to the Sumter game, you rode with my mom and me. I think about going to you for advice and telling you about every problem that was going on. Looking back, those problems were silly and unimportant. I wish that's how my problems were now. I think about how sweet you always were. You were never, ever mean to me no matter what kind of day you had had. You were always so sweet and bubbly. Always happy.

I think about that day. The day I heard. How much I didn't want to believe it. How much it hurt. How I felt like someone had just punched all the air out of me and I literally couldn't breathe. How I felt like I had just hit a brick wall. How it didn't seem real. How at that moment, nothing seemed real. How much I cried. How many times I cried myself to sleep. How many times I re-read the things you signed in my yearbook and what you left me in your senior will. How much I just wanted to see you and hug you and how much I wanted you here. How much I wondered if you knew how much you meant to me and how much I looked up to you and how much I love you. I think about how much I wish I'd taken more picture of you and me and less of you and other people. And how I still cry because I miss you so much.

I always wonder what your life would be like today. And how your future would have been. I always think about how unfair it was that your story had to end so soon.

I wish you were here so I could talk to you. Tell you everything that's going on in my life. Listen to what you'd have to say. To know that you'd always be there for me.

I remember how much I wanted to be like you. To be as sweet as you were and as happy and warm and loving and as confident and gorgeous as you were. I'm still working on accomplishing those, but I think you would be proud of who I have become so far.

You're my hero, Kristin. You were then, you are now, and you always will be. I guess now you're my guardian angel. I'd give anything to have you back. I miss you. I love you.

"The opposite of love is not hate. It's indifference."

I've heard that a good million times and I just now began to listen to what it means. If you hate someone, you're still tied to them. If you hate someone, you still feel something for them. They still have some form of control over you. They are still a part of you and you are still a part of them. There's still a chance to change things. I'm not really sure what's harder. Learning to stop caring about someone you hate, learing to begin caring again for someone who has become indifferent to you, or learning to love someone you've been growing to hate.

I've been through so much change these last few years and even more these last seven months. I got something I wanted more than anything and it was what was best for everyone. But it's not as easy as I thought it'd be. Sometimes what's best for everyone still comes with sacrifices. Some things still sting. Adjusting to getting rid of one problem brought along a few new ones. I'm most definitely the black sheep of my family. Most of the time, I love that fact. I love being the one that's different. The one that stands out. The one that you'll remember. But being the black sheep makes it hard to get along with the two "birds of a feather". Two like forces and one opposite. The imbalance is hard to deal with. I often feel isolated in my own home. Isolation is something I can't handle. I need people. Not even people neccessarily, at least just someone. I'm not sure how to fix this. I can only handle myself for so long. I can't keep myself distracted for very long. Swings, walks, books, drawing, music- all these things can only distract me for so long. And sometimes all they do is ampilfy my feeling of isolation all the more.