I've never, ever been able to completely rid my life of you. Even in the days where we didn't consider ourselves to be friends – more enemies – you were still always there, in the back of my mind. Now, we're older, probably more sensible, but really the same people we always were. I trust you, and you trust me. It is me you come to when you have a problem, or you want to talk about something, and vice versa. There are things that I'll say to you I wouldn't dream of saying to anyone else. Because we're past all the niceties, and we're past all the nastiness, too. You're my oldest, closest friend.

I remember all our little falling outs, the squabbles, the arguments, the pure hate; I remember the tears, the rumours, the harsh whispers and the unreasoned bitter insults sent each others way. But I also remember how fast we'd fall back into friendship, with no apologies; we'd just slowly settle back in to talking to each other, and somehow, we'd regain the trust and the closeness we once had. Now, we can look back on those arguments without any bitterness: as you once said, we're even now, and nothing can disturb those odds.

Sometimes, I think that I miss you being my best friend, even though in an odd kind of way, you are. You look to me in situations you're not used to and, usually, I look to you. I don't think it's a conscious thing – it's more automatic, brought on through years of friendship. But still, I miss the way things used to be because, really, I've never laughed with anyone quite as hard as I've laughed with you; never talked so thoroughly with anyone but you. You, and me, we can talk and laugh and talk some more until our mouths are dry and we've nothing left to say, but we'll still push the conversation into new, uncovered ground.

I long, sometimes, for the times that we can talk together without any interruption from anyone. The beginning of the day, the end of the day; when the day's problems just seem to come spilling out, because I know I can tell you anything now, and at last – you won't go and tell someone else, and you know I'll keep your secrets now. And I'm still really sorry for what might have occurred in the past (even though I still maintain that I was in the right...)

Now, we've moved on, almost. I have my friends – you have yours. I sometimes see you and her together and I think about what I used to have from both of you – you've both been my best friends at some point – but I don't begrudge her anything (because she's the one that stole you, if I'm going to be immature about it all), because I like seeing you both happy. But, still, I know your friendship with her is uneven; more uneven than mine and yours used to be.

And, that in mind, I want to tell you this: I'll always have a place for you; I'll always have time for you. You need me; I'll be there.

It's what best friends do, right?