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Growing up, I lived in Spain with my family. My dad is best friends with Pedri's dad. One of my closest friends. We were always with each other. He would teach me how to play football and I'd help him practice the best I could.

When I was 8 years old, my dad got a job offer in France and he took it. So we had to move from our life in Spain. 

I was devastated and even more angry that I had to leave my closest friend behind.

He was there for me whenever I needed him. We found out my mother had cancer, which was very hard on us. Especially me. We were so close to each other and had a great bond. 

Luckily, my mom beat cancer. But she still has to take multiple tests to make sure it doesn't come back.

Pedri was there for me when I had my first panic attack. He was there to help calm me down and remind me to breathe. Which I always thanked him for that. 

After we moved to France, I found that I started to have panic attacks more often. So my dad signed me up for therapy. I was prescribed some pills to take everyday. 

Unfortunately, me and Pedri became more distant. I mean we both knew it would happen but we said we'd text when we could. Well when he could... 

I don't blame him though. He's doing great in football and really going places. Which I'm glad to watch happen all the way in France. 

I hope someday I'll go back to Spain and be where I loved most. 

Home. 




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