She was the sweetest little thing there ever was.

When I was growing up I had a friend named- Amy. You've heard me talk about Amy Dean a couple of times. I've even told the story about when we went to see Mean Girls. For some reason I have Amy on my mind today. It could be that her 24th birthday would have been five days ago. It could be that Mean Girls is celebrating it's 10th anniversary and I've seen things about it everywhere. It could be because my mind wanders. Or it could be the fact that I can't listen to Taylor Swift without thinking about Amy first. No matter where my imagination and terrible singing takes me in my head, my first thought is always Amy. That's why I secretly love Taylor Swift. {{But seriously don't tell anyone that I love Taylor Swift. I don't want to be known as a 'Swifty'. Amy wouldn't want that either.}}

Either way, no matter the reasoning I have Amy on my mind today. I first met her when we were little kids and we bonded over our equally horrible haircuts. Although she eventually grew hers out a few years before I did mine, and she continued to have much better hair as we got older, when we were small we were equal in that department. Her with her gelled bangs and hairclips, and me with my feathered bangs and pigtails. Thankfully, we grew out of that. For the most part.

I called Amy Skippy, because that just seemed like a fun, happy name. And when I think of her, I think happy. She called me Daisy, because she loved to tease me about being a 'late bloomer'. I was shy and backwards and she loved to acknowledge that. She was never mean about it, and she never talked to other people about it, but we talked about it a lot. It was mostly her telling me stories and asking me questions and my opinion, and me nodding along and giving her honest answers.

We were always friends, but we also competed with each other throughout grade school. They were friendly competitions, because at the time we didn't even realize that's what was happening. We both just wanted to have great grades, win things, and for the people we liked to like us back. That's not so much to ask, was it? I remember when we were in the fifth grade we both participated in the annual spelling bee. We did really good and made it further on up in the competition. When we got to the district competition Amy was eliminated, and I went onto state and eventually nationals. She was so happy for me and I was sad for her. Even though we both wanted to win, I don't think we realized that meant the other had to lose. We didn't think of that. We thought of our friends.

When we were young, people would tell us that we looked alike constantly. I didn't see it, I thought that Amy was much prettier than me, but she would just smile, hug me, and tell them thank you. They mistook us for sisters and sometimes even as just the other one. It was like this until she dyed her hair bleach blonde and got really tan. Like really tan. I don't tan, I just stayed pale as a powdered wig, but not her. She looked like she should be on the cover of a magazine somewhere. After she passed away I took care of her dad at work for a bit. I wasn't thinking and wanted a change, so I bleached my hair blonde. When I walked into his room he cried and his wife dropped the tray she was holding and grabbed me to hug me. When they glanced up they had thought I was Amy, until they remembered what had happened. I went home that night and immediately dyed my hair dark brown again.

When we became teenagers we went through the phases that all teenagers go through. Amy started wearing ties and a crap load of eyeliner and I got a tattoo and started wearing hiphuggers. We both looked like we were trying to copycat Britney Spears and Avril Lavigne....because we so were. I was a bit of a late bloomer so she had many more boyfriends than I did. She had a lot of boyfriends now that I think about it. She was so pretty, and bubbly, and energetic, and fun, that it was hard not to want to be around her. All of the guys seen this early on. Plus, she was a cheerleader and what guy doesn't love a good ole cheerleader? Before she decided to go into her 'bubblegum pop' phase, she went through her 'alternative rock' phase. She wore ties, straightened her hair and wore a lot of eyeliner. We all did at one time or another. What makes the alternative rock phase complete? A badass boyfriend, that's what. Amy snagged the "bad boy" that we all thought was a dreamboat, but never actually talked to. They were only "hallway corner" official and later on Amy would tell me that she never really thought of him as a boyfriend, but more so a guy that made her look totally awesome. She wanted him for her "image" and he agreed to it, because I mean, why not?

When we were eighteen and she was about to pop from having her baby boy, she would convince me that giving that bad boy from her past a chance was a great idea, because according to her- "Every girl needs to go through that phase, and he was the best to transition you through it". Once again- she was right. She got the hair brained idea, because we worked at the nursing home with that boys mom, and he had talked to Amy about me. I had a strict no dating my friends ex-boyfriends or crushes policy. She informed me that seventh grade didn't count and that he didn't count as a boyfriend, but a phase. When we worked together we had a blast. I would get her those weird things that she craved from being prego (i.e. rice krispies w/ ketchup, cream soda, and white powdered doughnuts) and scratch her belly while I smoked on our breaks. The ones at work told us that we were a sight for sore eyes. We were young, crazy, and fun. We were full of sunshine and we loved to laugh. We even had the bright idea to climb into the industrial dryers there, and all was well until they turned it on with me inside. Amy screamed, I cursed, and iI got a "semi concussion" and a great memory. We had so much fun at work, with each other and our co-workers. That's even where we met the one guy that was into me first instead of Amy, and she loved every minute of it. She was all about teasing the late bloomer. In a loving/friendly way, of course.

She was just such a great person and a wonderful friend that it makes me wonder why bad things happen to great people. She made mistakes just like the rest of us, but she owned them and they made her who she was. She was full of laughter, and I'm pretty sure that anyone that met her was automatically a little bit in love with her. She was a young mother, but she was an amazing one. Just like with everything else in her life she excelled beyond what anyone thought that she would. I personally never had any doubt for her whatsoever. I knew that she would love that baby more than anything in the entire world. And she did. Because that's who she was. That's what she did. If you were her friend she loved you and treated you like her family. If you were family she loved you even beyond that. She just wanted to love blindly and make everyone smile. And that's what she did. I guess what I'm trying to say is- I miss her.