Dear Harlow,

You think I hate you, but I could never do that. In fact, hating you is an emotion I've never felt, even if at times I really thought I did.

The day before you left, I ignored you. I thought I could do better, I thought I didn't care. I was lying to myself to make it easier. I saw the pain in your eyes when I blanked you and didn't say goodbye, I heard you sigh as I turned and walked away. Now you're half a world away from me, I can't contact you, and I miss you so damn much. If I'd have known I'd feel this way, I'd have said something, anything, to make you realise I do care. You're the first and only person to ever make me feel something, the only person I fully trust with everything in me. You're my rock.

I feel so shattered now you're not here any more, I feel so truly broken inside.

Back then I thought the most painful thing was to see you with him; in his arms, tangled up, kissing him whenever the passion took its course. And it did. Constantly.

I miss my best friend though, I miss our Saturday traditions, I miss how you used to need me and love me. I guess a part of the reason I ignored you that day, and didn't say goodbye, was because I wanted to punish you. I wanted you to be hurt like you've hurt me every single time you've cancelled a plan and gone to him instead of me. I wanted you to miss me, so I could know you still care. I wanted you to run after me like you would have done before him, jump on my back and be like; 'So, where's my goodbye?' and I'd laugh, and hug you to, and say I'd be seeing you soon.

Now you've got him, I've been pushed aside and forgotten. But still, I miss you and want you back in my life. Why don't you want to be in mine? Was our friendship worth anything to you? It meant something to me, but I think I cared more.

I have a habit of putting my all into something, not realising when I'm getting nothing in return. But still, at times you made me feel so special and involved. I didn't feel lonely, and I felt I could be my complete self around you. I've never felt like that before, with anyone, not even my own family.

I told you secrets I never told anyone, like how when my grandmother died I started self harming, and I told you the dream where she came to me and told me to stop. You didn't laugh like other people would have, you didn't stereotype me as an 'emo', as you know I'm anything but that. You were simply there for me, and that's just what I needed.

I told you about my first 'love'. Well I say 'love', but if that was love then what is this? This all feels so much more powerful.

I miss when our minds were seemingly linked together, we knew everything about each other; what we were each thinking, what we both wanted, our hopes, our dreams, our deepest darkest desires. When you needed me, I came running. When you cried, I wiped away your tears. Nothing was too embarrassing. Your house was literally my house, I was there every day literally. I haven't been over there in way over a month or two now.

Why does it have to end like this? Why can't things be like they were before? You told me in a letter that I would always come first, even before the boy you were deeply in love with. Was that all a fucking lie? You don't act like you care, you haven't acted like you care before you got your new boyfriend. I hate him, because he's took you away from me. I hate him because he's your new 'me'.

I love you, and I miss you despite everything.

You were more than just my best friend, you were my sister.

Don't forget me.

Rose.