I made arrangements with my parents to go back home, and when I arrived in my own familiar room, I saw the journal I had been keeping since I was ten. I read an entry from fifth grade:
"I met my new best friend today. Her name is Colee, and we just connected."
Another wave of anguish washed over me as I read the journal entry of the first day I met my now ex-best friend.
"She looked like she needed a friend."
Now I'm the one who needs a friend. Colee is gone. Possibly forever, she's so stubborn and doesn't care about feelings unless they're her own. Or Tegan's, apparently. Like I had promised, I left as soon as Tegan arrived at Colee's. I don't like Tegan, but it's probably just best friend jealousy.
"She seemed so nervous that someone was actually talking to her. Her voice was low and soft, and I found myself listening closely to her stories and voice."
I wondered how my eleven year old mind had come up with that description, but looking back I remembered it clear as day. Colee was shy at first, but after I got to know her better, I found she was very outgoing. We were similar but different, as she could be forceful and I was much more laid back and go with the flow. Sometimes I wondered how I had found a best friend like Colee, but now I know it was too good to last. An eleven year old in fifth grade would honestly think she had found her best friend forever, but then again, so did an 18 year old finishing high school.
I choked up as I kept reading. After a few more passages about Colee, I snapped. The journal ended up across the room, and I grabbed a pillow and punched it with rage. My sobs were muffled by the pillow too as I collapsed on the cold hardwood floor of my bedroom. There were no tears, however. Just shaky, emptying panicking.
Author's Note:
I don't even know how she got home, ah bad continuity. Oh well.
