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CU Boulder | Life > Experiences

To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before

Maddie Spicer Student Contributor, University of Colorado - Boulder
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at CU Boulder chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

We don’t speak, but I talk about you all the time. 

Everyone who knows me knows your name. They laugh when I say your first and last name in one breath, like a classic Southern double-barreled Mary Jane. I talk tales of first times and forgotten promises. The other day, I called myself the nickname your dad gave me when we were girls. It fits like your old Beatles tank top that I traded you for my Nirvana tee. I laugh about your school bus hydroplaning much more than I probably should. 

You taught me coping mechanisms, some healthy, some not. The first time I used a tampon (successfully) was in your bathroom. I was there when you learned about your mom. That trip to Arkansas still lives in my bones; one Cigarettes After Sex song and suddenly, I’m under the influence of Dramamine and driving up the side of a mountain. You taught me how to line my eyebrows.

You unblocked me on Instagram a few weeks back. The first time I’ve had a glimpse of you since high school graduation. 

Your life looks beautiful. Just how I hoped it would.

We don’t watch Pretty Little Liars after the party’s over, but I always stay after the function to help clean.

I can never hear the word ‘Rodeo’ without adding ‘Mom’ at the end. Walking to Domino’s after practice. Tinfoil photoshoots. I saw you in Walmart last summer. I’m happy we still hugged.

We don’t hang out anymore, but I’ve never laughed harder than when I’m with you.

It’s hard to remember a moment when we were still, except when we slept from 5 a.m. to 5 p.m. I’m still mourning the loss of my hat. You taught me how to be funnier. Going out in those Party City wigs, I never felt out of place. I hear Sam Hunt and pretend you’re singing with me. That small town belonged to us in junior year.

I mention the bathroom stall photos, and get deranged stares in return. You made me feel invincible. Cane’s tasted better with you. Everything did. Remember the mouthpiece from that board game? I still have it hanging in my room. And Finger-Bama is still there, and the mask (you know which one). But I don’t take down my beads to leave anymore. 

I called you on my birthday. I just couldn’t imagine the day without you in it somehow.

You send me videos now and then, they still make me laugh. They still make me feel 16. 

We don’t watch you serenade us from your mom’s couch, but I do the dance every time I hear “Wild Thoughts.”

I discovered my love for the backseat in your backseat. I still have that service trip to Florida on my resume. Our wild adventures that always ended up in the woods. Your emoji beanie is one of my most prized possessions.

I hear “Circus,” and I can almost see you dancing. You’re an unpredictable type of funny. Music feels different in your two-door. When I see a Celsius or hear the name Lulu, I think about you. I laugh a little. 

We don’t laugh like we used to, but the funny mountain is still there.

You were the first person I properly lived with. The Glinda to my Elphaba. Trips to Target, Goodwill, Trader Joe’s. The other mother to my Coraline. You understood me. Wanna go to this concert? Great, already bought our tickets. Black Mirror on a projector. Trolls 3: Band Together right after.

You have the most genuine soul. The hat from The Driver Era. You’re free on Wednesday, right? Just signed us up for a craft night! Playing Papa’s Freezeria at 9:30 a.m. in Geology. You’re a flower in human form. And the real Spiderman.

I heard you cut your hair. I hope you broke up with him. You’ve always deserved more. I hope you’re happier.

(P.S. You should read my F-Word article.)

We don’t dress up and eat fancy dinners, but when I take photos, I drop my shoulder. 

I saw Addison Rae in concert, you’d hate that. I miss your gentle nature in this calloused world. Did you see Misty Copeland at the Oscars? I thought of you.

You saw through the walls I’ve so carefully curated to disguise myself. I know what a viola is because of you. Eating one of those crunchy granola bars and getting crumbs everywhere. Prom was a disaster, but you’re still the best date I’ve ever had. You made me a better person. The color lilac feels like you. Warm and accepting. 

We don’t plan your bachelorette party anymore, but I would not be the woman I am today without you.

I can’t look at photos of us. There’s always a real smile on my face. Wearing your clothes all the time. I remember Galveston and Taylor. Do you know I’m not cool with that girl now? What about you? How’d you feel about the latest album? Matching Christmas pajamas. “Yellow noodles” at Texas Roadhouse. I loved being with you. I wish I were brave enough to tell your dad happy birthday. Or to apologize.

I hope your stomach hurts less now. I remind myself it was good. It was worth everything. I loved you. I just wish I had respected you enough. 

You taught me the power of authentic friendship. It’s sisterhood. Real sisterhood. I’m sorry that I ruined what we had before I understood the brevity of that. 

Playing the Sims 4 on your laptop. Purvida bracelets. My first trip to New Orleans. I still fervently deny any intentions of being on Bourbon at night. 

Doing my makeup, but you did your eyebrows too thick. I can’t listen to “Megan’s Piano.” Crying and screaming and snorting on FaceTime. A fellow fedora supporter. “Delete that.”

Our friendship taught me a lot. You taught me more. You taught me how to give when you feel like you’ve got nothing left. You taught me about LinkedIn. You taught me the essence of a Black woman. You taught me about respect. You taught me the importance of an apology.

I’m sorry for what I did. And for everything I didn’t. 

No words will reverse it, but I try to live a life you’d be proud to see, despite how we ended. 

I’m writing these letters because of you. Our memories couldn’t fade to nothing. They deserve more. You deserved more. 

I’d rather write you a letter you’ll never read than never speak at all.

Thank you for giving me the tools to write these. Thank you for the moments, the time, the life we lived together, even if it was just for a while.

With love, 

An old friend

Maddie Spicer

CU Boulder '27

Maddie Spicer is a contributing writer and the spring 2026 Social Media Director at the Her Campus Chapter at the University of Colorado at Boulder. As she joined in August 2023, her duties include researching and writing articles and features. Now, director of the social team, she creates content for college students akin to herself and leads a team of eight total members.

At CU, she is a third-year majoring in Journalism with minors in Creative Writing and Cinema Studies. She initiated her writing career in high school as a team writer for her school newspaper, The Yahoo!. In the two years she wrote for the paper, Maddie advanced from an entry-level writer to the Assistant Editor and public relations manager. In 2022, she was an attendant at the Washington Journalism and Media Conference (WJMC) hosted at George Mason University. During this week-long program, she met students, faculty, and speakers from all over the United States, and Maddie recognized her fondness for journalism.

Outside of school, Maddie is a relentless shopper and a self-titled fashion critic. She has established harmony between her passion for fashion and journalism through her articles: "Style, Spice, and Everything Nice." Her interests in cinema and production recently allowed her the opportunity to work in her college’s equipment checkout center, The Armory Vault. She describes her role — in layman’s terms — as “a librarian for technology.” Maddie believes Megan Thee Stallion and Don Toliver are her best friends (aside from her truest confidant, her darling mother dearest) and always has them on repeat. As an avid concert-goer, she devotes most of her finances to purchasing tickets of some variety. When Maddie is nowhere to be found, she is hanging out with friends, eating cheese (or chocolate chips), watching BoJack Horseman, or a strange yet typical combination of all three.