The Last True Friend

Sometimes it can be difficult to walk around the same halls as someone whom you used to be around almost everyday. Your heart beating really loud you can hear it in your ears, head and even feel it thumping in your body. She was your sister after all or at least felt like it until you decided to defend someone who no longer talks to you. He'd say, “Don't go back to her, she messed you up and if she actually cares, she'll come to you, that's how you find out if she's really your friend. Don't go back to her like I said, SHE messed YOU up.”

 

He was wrong and I knew it but never used my words. I was far too scared in another disaster happening again. She never messed me up, she messed him up. Surely she did leave but maybe somewhere deep inside her she knew what she was doing, I never focused on the events I was involved in. Maybe I defended the wrong person. Maybe there should have been no one to defend. The argument was never about me; maybe keeping my mouth shut would've done me good.

 

There is so much on my shoulders and the only thing running through my mind is the fact of how I ended a great friendship with someone who was always there for me. It’s hard taking glances your way and see the smile on your face that was no longer because of my doings and I'm sorry. I know sorry is just a word, but I'm trying to fix everything, but are you? Do you ever think about how close we used to be? Do you break like me?

 

All I ever think about is “Why did I have to screw up?” You’d still be my sister, my best friend, and my go-to-person whenever someone did me wrong. He did me wrong. I realized he wasn’t actually my friend like he said he was.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday when him and I stood by the rusted gate as people passed by when he said, “I’ll always be here.”

“Yeah I know” I said, my smile dreaded like a plastic barbie doll’s face once burned in the gulfing flames.

It was all a lie considering the fact he only wants to be my friend when it occurs to him that it is good to be, or when I give him the attention he wishes to have. You might be thinking I only want to come back because I have no one else left to be my right hand, which is not at all true. I’ve always argued with him to get back to you but he wouldn’t let me do it.

I remember the time you sent a donut to my class, with someone new I didn’t know. The donut was gently placed on my desk as the smile plastered on my face was more meaningful than it had ever been throughout that week. I walked over to him as he acknowledged me without any emotion shown in his face.

“Hey, guess who gave me a donut?” I let out as the happiness erupted throughout my body. Maybe it would be the time we would talk again after not talking for 9 days and 8 nights.

“Where?”

His face hardly showed any feeling as if his emotions were taken by someone who wanted to experiment of what it must have felt like. His voice was stern, angered, but quiet enough for me to hear, to make me feel pressured by the softness of his chords.

“Well her friend gave it to me, but she sent it to her.”

Maybe changing the subject would have been the brightest idea I had, seeing the colors change in the sequence must have been the only way to calm his nerves.

“Okay, well where is it?”

“On my desk?”

His sudden movements made me flinch. He grabbed the donut and crumpled it as if he was tucking a paper crushing it into a ball. Walking into the hallway, I immediately followed calling out his name as he threw it in a trash can in the hallway bins. The noise echoed throughout the area.

“What was that about?!”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again by her, YOU did the right thing” he stated as he left me standing, staring at the bin that now had a precious thought left for me to ponder if I really was doing the right thing.

 

Time could pass by and now I realized I didn’t do the right thing. Maybe it’s too late to take it back because talking to you is difficult without thinking that you hate my guts which is understandable. I’m not perfect, but then again who is? Knowing we are no longer best friends makes my heart sink like the Titanic in 1912. Maybe we’d both be Jack and Rose and I’d be the one to say “I’ll never let go,” but once the argument slips, I’d let you sink past my fingertips making me question why I let you slip. At least I don’t believe you let me go, or did you let me slip through your fingertips and let me sink?

I possibly care too much but what can I say? I knew you since eighth grade in dance class, where together we would talk about the smallest things that crossed our minds that soon became big and passionate like a lion’s roar. I told you I wasn’t good at it which only made you sock me in the arm and say I was lying to myself. Little things like that made us who we are. That was until we faded out. You haven’t given up on dance even though I have.

 

Ninth grade came and I majored in music although I was supposed to be in dance. It’s insane because dance allowed me to feel rhythm and movement. It was the insecurities that got to me. Even though I didn’t have the class, you would still show me the dance moves you were taught as if it were a painting being drawn against a canvas that allowed the colors to glow, like the bright flowers in the spring morning. That was until there was a smudge in the painting that could only allow us to see the colors that made us who we were. The colors of music and dance, also known as me and you, in which were ruined for the little mistake I made.

 

Am I even cut out to be your friend anymore? I don’t even think I’m good enough anymore. I’m sorry for those errors in the memories. Have you stopped caring about me? Are you still there for me? Please tell me you are. We can’t change what happened but we can possibly fix the detachment we have in the hole between us. Maybe we can become friends or even sisters again, even if it takes time.

 

Being without you is terrible. Most times I can’t hold it in so I break down. Talking to you is hard because I know I'm going to break down in front of you, all because I’m reminded of the memory of when I lost a true friend. One I could call family, one I could trust, and one I could share things I could not share with others. Maybe one day we’ll feel okay with one another again.

Sincerely,
the last untrue friend
“Evany!”

I looked at you as you called me over motioning your hand. I walked up to you as I began to think about the bad possibilities that could happen.

“Closer” you said as I walked up more.

I began to flinch thinking you would hit me as you gave me a hug which took me by surprise. Maybe one day we’ll be okay but for now it’s okay not to be for I know-

“You know I care about you right?”

You are the last true friend whom I’m willing to learn from-

“Yeah…” I muttered softly as I teared up.

Because our friendship is beautiful.

END
 






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