Lemons Dipped in Sugar

Best Friends Forever.
I feel like laughing bitterly, now, even as I write this. Best friends? Right. And I’m the Queen of England. Best friends? Ha. I wish.
So I still feel like laughing, even though there isn’t anything remotely funny about it. I still feel like screaming, even though it happened months ago. I still feel like crying, even though my “real” friends assured me that if she was my real friend she wouldn’t hurt me like that. I don’t need her.
But I do.
No, I don’t need her, specifically - she hurt me. I’m not afraid to say that she hurt me terribly. Ripped my heart apart and didn’t even spare a backwards glance at the pieces. So I don’t need her - I don’t even want her to apologize after every hurtful word that she spat at me- to stitch the remains together. Time is crudely sewing it back, but the stitches are uneven and crooked. I need someone who can keep a huge promise to do the operation.
Because from our fallout, I realized that that’s what “Best Friend” is. It’s not a label. It’s definitely not just one of those “Hello. My name is _____” stickers that you can slap on anyone’s shirt and expect it to stick. No, certainly not. It’s a promise. A promise we can’t keep together. I hope she can find someone willing to have a label stuck on them, because I know she still thinks it’s a sticker. If she realizes the truth, then maybe - just maybe - I could let her back in. Eventually, you know? But not now. Not until we've grown up and moved on past this whole episode and have gotten over the hurt and the lies and the almost laughable drama - but now something else occurs to me.
What if I was the only one affected by this whole thing? Maybe she's sitting there in her room, painting her nails with the polish she told me she'd let me borrow but never gave to me, giggling with her stupid little friends about this?
Oh, God. Oh my God.
I can so see her doing that. Do you know what, you backstabbing little brat? I hate you. I realy, truly hate you. I hope you know that. I hope you know that I never want to have anything to do with you whatsoever. I hope I never have to see you again. And I mean that. I know I lied sometimes, but I swear this.
Best Friends Forever?
Only in your wildest dreams.
Best Friends Forever.
The whole concept of having a best friend seems bittersweet to me now. I want to have someone to laugh with, to cry with, and to share my deepest secrets and fears with. I really want that. But after what she did…lets just say I’ll have to be more trusting when I find a new best friend.
Best Friends Forever?
How long is forever? Before, I thought forever was…for ever. But now, I know better. How long will my next “forever” last? Until death? Until college? Until I move?
Or…never?
Will I ever find someone willing to keep the promise?
Best Friends Forever?
Oh, yeah. Definitely. And did I mention that tomorrow I’m moving to an exclusive Beverly Hills residence overlooking a lake brimming with mermaids and friendly dolphins?
You know, not.
Best Friends Forever.
But I had only tried to help her! What I did was for her own good. Why must she be so blind as to not realize that? I helped her, and I’m the one who’s expected to get down on my knees, and beg her for forgiveness? How does that work out?
Sometimes it seems the world is barely less than twisted.
Best Friends Forever?
Oh, please. Get real.
I was lying to myself, the whole time I was her friend. Somewhere deep down, I knew we were only setting ourselves up for a fight. If I ever saw her do something cruel, or mean-hearted, I made lame excuses to myself. I was blinded by her popularity and “coolness”. It’s not often that one is invited into a circle like that. But now I know better.
Best Friends Forever?
My limited supply of snappy retorts seems to have run out.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback