Do you remember in middle school you came up to me one day and introduced yourself and your friends? I didn't know them and didn't really want to, but you kept talking to me. You laughed and joked with everyone, and I was amazed. I still am. How can you have such humble confidence, such openness?

You are not a “social butterfly,” but the way you embrace all people and let them open up of their own will is more powerful and beautiful than any social butterfly I've ever met.

Can you believe that I'd never known anyone who did that for me ­before? Someone as gently persistent as you? I will always remember that.

Could you see that I was unhappy? I don't think so; I hid it well. I was never interested in obvious grief. Just silent sorrow.

But do you know how silent unhappiness can affect a person? How it can twist a mind into thinking so many negative things? And so few positives?

Do you remember that movie where one girl was kind to another and sat at her table because she was alone? Everyone seemed to think it was so unrealistic. Even I scoffed a little. But do you realize that I always felt like that girl? You rescued me.

Can you believe I am crying? Maybe I've only just realized what you did for me. I ­wonder if I'll ever have the courage to give this note to you. You'd probably deny everything.

We've drifted apart, but that's ­because you helped me drift. I have more friends now. I like people. And I see classmates who remind me so much of who I was – who feel the negatives outnumber the positives. Maybe that's why they are drawn to me and I to them.

I want to be like you, my friend. I want to see the beauty in people and help them find it in themselves.

Your Grateful Friend,


M.G.