October 15, 2012
By ElizabethDenton01 PLATINUM, Clawson, Michigan
ElizabethDenton01 PLATINUM, Clawson, Michigan
42 articles 1 photo 6 comments

Favorite Quote:
“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.”
― Bob Marley

Looking back, it didn’t seem like anything significant. So we kept a journal? Big deal. For as long as I’ve known her, really known her, we’ve been sharing our poetry, our thoughts, and feelings. It made sense to combine them. We tell each other everything. We document every important moment of our lives. It isn’t a big deal to us. But to other people, our journals tell a story. A story of 2 girls, searching for their faith, trying to find out who they are.

It’s my first day of school. I’m a sophomore now. My classes seem pretty easy, but I’m the new girl. It’s hard to be the new girl. Nobody really talks to me. I saw her as soon as I walked into 5th hour. She had bright red hair. It reminded me of Raggedy Anne. She was sitting and talking with another girl, her sister, who also had a unique hair color. They were laughing, and talking, and in their own little world. She looked up at me. She didn’t smile.

I honestly never thought that we would be friends. We were complete opposites! She’s outgoing, and crazy, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks. I’m shy, and quiet, and self-conscious. We are alike, only in thoughts. We both love poetry. We express ourselves in the same way. We struggle expressing ourselves with spoken word, but on paper, we come alive.

I was walking through the hallway on my way to the bathroom. I saw the girl and her sister headed in the same direction. The girl’s hair was blue now. They glanced at me. I looked down. She dropped a pile of notebooks. I leaned over to help pick them up. The titles were all the same. “My Poetry” by Skye.

“You write poems.” I stated. It was obvious, but I had to say it.
She stared at me for a minute, hesitating, and then answered, “It’s my life. Do you write?”
“Every day since I can remember. I’m Lizzi.” I smiled and introduced myself.
“I’m Abi. But call me Skye. I’m changing my name to that when I turn 16.” She returned the smile.
“Your hair is blue. I’m gonna call you Skye Bluu. It’s nice to meet you Skye.” I turned to leave.

Once I learned that we had something in common, I began to slowly let her close to me. I showed her my journals. We shared our thoughts and opinions on everything from cafeteria food, to life and death. We passed notes in class, and before I knew it had happened, we became best friends. The journal came into existence one day when we were trying to keep track of our conversations and thoughts that we’d shared.

I grabbed an empty composition notebook, and said “Okay. Let’s use this. For our eyes and our eyes only. I’ll write in it, and when I’m done, or if you need it, I’ll pass it to you.”

“Lizzi-ness OMG you’re amazing! We can totally do this. Skye-ness is very happy.” She was doing this little dance that she does when she’s excited.

Since August, we’ve filled up four journals. In one week, we filled an entire one. If I hadn’t met Skye, I would still be afraid to read my writing. Sharing it with her, helps me make discoveries of myself. I’m not perfect. And I never will be. But knowing I have her by my side no matter what, that’s what’s important.

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