Hey Liz,It's been a while since we were twelve. I look at those email, you know, from time to time, the ones we would send back and forth with our writing, our original pieces for critique, for response, for whatever. We trusted each other with our souls. Do you remember?Do you remember how we would stay up, trading bits and pieces of ourselves with each other, writing terrible scripture, the sacred text of our friendship until the early hours of the morning.We were woven together, Liz, me and you. If someone asked me about it today I would deny it all. But you would first.Our demise was nothing so dramatic, like in the fledgling novels we wrote together, for each other. No grand gestures, no dirty secrets spat in disgust, no knife to the gut. It was over so quickly I didn't even know it.It's been seven years, Liz, and I have yet to share my soul again. I can count on one hand the number of eyes have gazed on the most naked parts of me, and you are the first. I gave words to you, I wrote you mountains and valleys, oceans and skies, and you did the same for me, and you took it all back.I'm not angry, Liz, I just don't understand. Were you sick of my soul? Did my words not impress you? You were the better writer, I'd be stupid not to admit it, but together, we were the best artist. So, did I catch up with you? We've come beyond artisticpens and Wattpad, haven't we? Will we ever know?I don't think I'll know you again, but I still have your soul, at least some of it, and you'll have mine.Love, JuliaPSI can't believe you let me post that Harry Potter fanfiction anywhere
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