One Million Tiny Things

Full of mischief

Hey Maggie,

Remember that time in ninth grade when we accidentally set the teachers desk on fire and Mr. Hart said we'd never even graduate high-school let alone get into college.

Well, here we are. Hope the old geezer is still around to see that his words were not really " marked ". God I used to love mimicking that raspy "Mark my words" so much that it became part of me and still embarassingly  slips out during heated arguments.

Today was my convocation. I graduated med school and proved the impossible much to the shock of my endearing aunts who said I'd never make anything of myself as I tore apart their flower beds and shaved their prized dogs.

It was great. The dream of a life time but through it all something was missing. I couldn't figure it out at first. Everyone was there, my entire proud family (Gracia finally showed up for something) all extensions included, my proffessors, high school teachers, classmates. Everything was perfect and smooth sailing and was quite like something out of a movie.

But I couldn't help thinking the climax never happened. All the minor incidents, introductions and even the ending was there but the most important part had been edited out.

It was when I felt compelled to stare at every brown haired girl with glasses.

To look for the sparkling blue eyes always full of mischief, the scar on your face identical to mine from the time we decided it would be fun to dive into the pond off the back of a random dude's pickup, the missing tooth from when you jumped off a window to scare the principal in high-school and the Gardner wheeled over a wheel barrow at exactly the same moment causing a giant crash and an early school dismissal bell and the ever present dimples with a barely visible claw mark from the time you got into a fight with Mrs. Hart's dog over the last sausage left at a picnic tea party.

To talk to random goths with black jackets and spiky electric blue hair, you'd be surprised the number of depressed goths in this part of town, because that's how you looked last time I saw you 5 years ago. Granted you didn't see me because last moment I chickened out and backed away. I still regret that descision to this day.

Only to realise its not the person I'm searching for. The person who used to hang around me almost every second of my life that they could have been easily mistaken for another limb until that one day I royally screwed her over and didn't have the guts to apologise. My partner in crime through thick and thin. And the one person in the world who would have followed me to the woods with a shovel if I showed up at her door with a body, no questions asked.

The person who should have most definitely been here, been by my side the past 8 years.

But I guess it is true what they say, no one hurts you more than the ones who are closest to your heart.

It is fair, you trust them, let them grow on you, put no barricades whatsoever against them and the next thing you know they lash out for the first time ever cutting you right to the core. They know exactly where to hit, all the weak spots and suddenly there is nothing left, the damage is worse than any nuclear bomb ever created.

Remember how we started out senior year, happier than ever. We were so full of hopes and plans. Overflowing with ideas for pranks and ways to make our last year at school count.

And then that guy Hank came and crashed through all our plans like a wrecking ball. Ironic how after everything that happened, 18 years of friendship went in the drain because of a boy. Even more so because we spent the majority of those 18 years laughing at girls in novels, movies and even several we knew in real-life who let the opposite gender ruin precious friendships, vowing over and over that we'd never let it happen, that we'd fight through it, be the bigger person and never add to the fuel.