I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song, I just can't remember who to send it to

I got a letter from the girl who was my best friend in England. We were together during the stage when it isn't about the quality of a friend, just so long as you don't sit alone at lunch. This letter is the first communication we've had in a year. She came to visit in 8th grade, I saw her during the investiture trip, wrote her a letter, and now, a year later, comes the reply. She writes about all the people I used to know, Lisa, Sarah, Richard, and Conrad who was my first boyfriend...during the phase when it isn't about the quality of a boyfriend as long as you have someone to write silly notes to during class. It makes me wonder what would have become of me if we had never left. I'd be drinking every weekend, smoking during school, and sleeping with a diferent guy most firday nights probably. id be rough, my pants would be too tight, and my shirts too low, id have high lights, low lights, and a nose piercing. Thats what i picture when i imagine it, which isn't often. I don't like to think of England, not because it brings back too many memories i miss like the house I'll never live in again, the friends I'll never call just to hang out with again, and the family it'll never take an hour and a half to get to again. But because of the things I don't remember, the parts of my life that have faded away and are close to impossible to recall. Today in class we had to write about what coming to America as a Pilgrim would be like. I looked back on my own experience of immigration and couldn't remember a single emotion. I remember I cried alot, and when i said goodbye to Bernie it broke my heart, but thats it. I don't remember the feeling of being ripped away, or that id only see these people that had always been a part of my life once every two years. When your 12, british, and have a chance to live in the place where your favourite movies are filmed, you don't stop to think of what you're giving up. Its only 4 years later when the 'what if's surface, 4 years later when all the potential stories play in your head. it's 4 years before you start honestly answering the question 'do you miss it?' and its 4 years before you truly do. 4 years seems like such a little amount of time in context of the world, it may as well be 4 days in a history book, but so much has changed. And i'm so happy to say for the better. Everything happens for a reason, I've always been shown that.