This isn't exactly a print or short story part but I was listening to some old playlists and got in my feels and started remembering things so this is really a rant so sorry but yeah.
I was just standing there talking with a few of our friends because I tended to get to school earlier than my best friend. Satan would usually drop me off pretty early. Not that I complained too much, really I was just happy to be away from it for as long as possible. But that day wasn't happy. I tried to make it seem like it was or feel like it. Anything really to cheer her up because the instant my best friend walked through those school doors carrying her old falling apart backpack that I loved so much because it was something we had done together, I was instantly in pain. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her face was flushed. Her voice was rough compared to its usual sweet tone that reminded me of flowers and honey and Pooh Bear and soft purples. And I didn't have to see the long sleeves to know they were concealing fresh new cuts amongst all those pink fading ones from long before. I didn't know exactly what she's been through. I wanted to know but I couldn't bring myself to ask her about it more than twice. I didn't want her to relive it. I wanted to break down and cry for her and hold her in my arms. I wanted to cuddle up on her couch like we had when she made me watch scary movies I couldn't finish. I wanted to watch all her favorite movies with her even if I didn't like all of them very much. I would've suffered through every second of evil dead if it meant she'd be happy. Taken a thousand metal cups aimed at my head while we screamed about the most random things in false rage. But I couldn't. And now I can't. I still can't wrap my head around what happened between us but she didn't want to be my friend anymore later on that year. I felt betrayed. It seemed to me that we were doing so good in our best friendship. I had felt for so long that I was going to lose her so I over compensated myself trying to hold us together and by doing that I think I only drove her farther away. I would call my mom late at night knowing that it wouldn't go through and I'd cry because I just wanted someone to tell me how to save our friendship. I wanted advice but I didn't know who to talk to because no one knows me the way she does and the only person who came close was my mom but I couldnt get to her either. Then my best friend started to do things. Just small things that made me think I could worry less about trying to hold us together because I felt like it was her way of showing that she wasn't going anywhere. And then I got the text. The one that took almost an hour for me to respond to because I couldn't read it. I could but it just didn't click. As if my brain refused to believe it. I sat there for so long just staring at my phone screen until it went black and then some more. And when I finally moved my thumbs over the key board the tears started falling and they wouldn't stop. I was angry and confused and sad and frantic most of all. But it was all to no avail. She didn't want me in her life anymore and I couldn't do anything about it because if I did I would hurt her. Now not a single day goes by that I don't think of her. I can barley stay awake now. But I can't barley sleep either. If I'm awake I think about her and all the memories we share. I keep her alive in my life by wearing her old clothes I'd stolen. Pining up the birthday notes she given me. Pining up everything that reminds me of her. Carrying the shamrock with me everywhere I go. Listening to the songs I know she loved even after they've gotten unbearable for me to hear I will still play them. I try to hold myself together when talking of her. I keep her in my camera roll and in the picture frames on my walls. In the necklace I got to match the one I gave her. In the ring she gave me that I wear every day to school. I keep her in my art work. In my stories. But with all of this during the day you'd think there'd be nothing left to have at night but at night I dream of the phone calls. The ABCs. The ridiculous conversations. The game we'd play when walking home from school. How we'd laugh together in class at my comments about the bald monotones bastard. The aluminati confirmed. I dream of PJ Mavis. I dream of sitting at her grandmas kitchen table drawing pictures and watching criminal minds special victims unit. The two of us at the lake. At DNOW. How she was there when I was Baptized. How she was there when I'd freak out over tv shows. How she put up with me and my stupid infatuation with that manwhore I kept running back to. The vines we'd watch together and send back and forth. Dan and Phil. The movies we liked to watch together. Cereal. Tortillas and honey. Puppy chow. Fucking peanut butter. That rediculous video game shed played that one time I was at her house. Lost boys. The outsiders. Fucking Tim Burton. Spoof. Everything that was us I'm always thinking about weather it's conscious or unconscious. I still love my best friend and I always will because she wasn't just my best friend she was my sister and actually still is. Like in Frozen when the true life be was between the two sisters not the girl and the guy. My best friend became my sister and she thawed my heart. Brought me out of my cold exterior with her beautiful sparkling hazel eyes and her chime bell laugh and her lilac honey voice and her beautiful singing and the way she'd hug me and smile at me and the way her hair puffed up when she brushed it so she just braided it instead I love every factor that makes up my best friend and I miss her with all my soul.
