Dear, Daphne. We're past the one month mark, and it's just crazy to think that I'd be here, stupidly writing to you when I know that you probably aren't even listening. I never got to tell you this as much as I've should, because although we'd never admitted it, we were both scared. But I love you Daphne, I really do. For awhile I was angry, angry at you, angry at myself. But then that anger slowly dissipated, it was selfish to be mad at you, and I knew that, but I didn't care. I still blame myself, maybe if I had payed more attention I could've stopped you, you would've gotten help, you would've been happy again...but most of all, you would've been here. You deserve so much more than what this world gave you, but even with everything that had happened to you, you always seemed to care more about what happened around you. I guess it was your coping skill, though I'll never know for sure, but what I do know is that you were so strong. I wish I could say I'll see you soon, but we both know I'd be lying, in fact, I hope I don't see you for a long time. I'm gonna live for you, I promise. You have to promise me though that'll you'll be there when I walk across that stage, that you'll be cheering me on as I read my speech aloud, dedicating more than half my success to your unconditional love and support. You better not get a new best friend while your up there, or else I'll drag you down from heaven myself bitch. I love you so much, and if I ever made you feel like I didn't, I'm sorry, because I would say it a thousand times if it meant you'd still be here. You were my personal heaven, and now, you'll be my angel too. Have fun up there beautiful.
Love, Elizabeth.
