But in the end I wish we were like these best friends in movies who laugh at old stories and let grass grow over things. Because I really liked you. I liked you always. And still do. I wish we could do it. But our time is over and there is no going back to all the beautiful things. Maybe in another time, another life. But somewhere inside you, I know, that you feel the way I do. And I want you to know that you live in me like a season. Sometimes you bloom, sometimes you are full of joy, then you keep covered and then the icy winter comes. And I always miss you. Dear old best friend, I love you and I wasn‘t joking when I said I will always love you.
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