Dear Shaine,
To my Shanang—my soul sister, my sister from another parent—thank you for the kind of friendship that fuels my creativity and steadies my heart.
Eight years.
That’s how long we’ve known each other.
Sometimes I wonder—was it our artistic souls that drew us together? Or was it the quiet similarities we shared: being firstborn daughters, loving words and writing, and holding on to that soft, youthful hope?
When I think of you, I remember the girl who lent me a costume during our freshman week in college—such a simple act, yet so full of warmth. But more than that, I remember the girl who carried her own battles, the one who lived with dreams that turned into storms at night—much like the ghosts that followed me even in waking hours.
In you, I saw a reflection of myself—your courage, your quiet struggles, the gray skies you carried, and the depth in your gaze that spoke of things only a few could understand.
And I remember the girl who let me read her poetry.
The moment you shared your writing with me, I knew—you were my person. You trusted me with a piece of your soul, and that meant everything.
Thank you.
That trust gave me the courage to peel back my own layers, to let my words breathe, to finally embrace the parts of myself I used to hide.
You walked with me through the pandemic. We talked through screens, but our connection never felt distant. We cried over failed exams, carried the weight of pressure-filled recitations, and faced the chaos of college life side by side.
But what makes me love you goes beyond the moments we survived together.
You loved me in ways I didn’t always know how to accept—through my anxious messages, my silence, my absence, my hang-ups, my loudness, my teasing, my “too much,” and even my restraint.
You loved me without pretense. Without conditions. Without asking for anything in return.
Your love is pure—and in it, I found the reflection of my own.
Life has never stopped testing us. It challenged our sanity, stretched our limits, and reshaped who we are.
But I am grateful—so deeply grateful—that I get to walk this life with you.
I can’t wait to see you grow into the woman you are meant to be. And maybe, in another eight years, I’ll look at you again and see not just growth—but a quiet, powerful blooming into everything you once dreamed of.
Maybe our dreams will change. Maybe life will take us in directions we never expected.
But I hold on to this: that no matter where life leads us, we will always find our way back to each other.
I pray for a future where we grow older still calling each other “best friend,” where we sit side by side at life’s milestones, clinking glasses at each other’s weddings, laughing at how far we’ve come.
And even in the quiet years ahead, I hope we remain—two souls who chose to stay.
All my love,
Joychie