Four years ago one of my friends died in a shooting accident. Well, she wasn't exactly my friend at the time. We had been friends and at the time of her death, we weren't getting along. I was 13, that was to be expected. You know, when preteens talk shit about each other and think it's cool to say awful things about each other. Pretty standard freshmen stuff. She got shot a week before my birthday, died three days before my birthday. And I remember trying to hold it in because she hadn't been my friend at the time and I thought I didn't have the right to grieve. I didn't like how people were talking about her because they were idealizing her, showcasing her as someone she wasn't, making her out to be a great person when she really wasn't. I remember saying I didn't want her to wake up, I don't even remember what my reasoning was. I remember getting angry at the person who told me all I had to do was pray. She was missing pieces of her fucking face and her brain was swollen against her skull, she was gone the second she was shot as far as I was concerned. I remember hearing that she had died. And I remember the day I finally broke down and allowed myself to cry. It was my birthday. I woke up that morning and told my mom I didn't want to do anything and just broke down crying and all I remember is yelling "my friend died". I had a dream either that night or a few days after, it was her and I just sitting on my bed, her sitting at the foot and we were just talking. A conversation, nothing significant, we were just sitting as friends and enjoying each other's company. That's the only time that's happened and I took that as I had been forgiven. Everything changed after that. I learned to forgive. I remember going to her vigil and seeing a girl I had formerly been friends with, but had claimed to hate. The second we made eye contact, she pulled me into a hug and we started bawling and I just told her I was so sorry, for everything. She had been her best friend at the time. I wanted to be kind, I didn't want to be mean, I didn't want to encourage the kind of behavior that had been going on, I wanted to live my life, I didn't want to hold grudges. I've changed, but I would give anything to go back and stop being that shitty fucking teen that thought it was cool to call everyone who wasn't me "ugly". I was so fucking mean, I'm so mad I allowed myself to be that person. I don't think I would've changed without that incident occurring though. I miss her every now and then, but I think about her nearly everyday. Even if it's for a split second, she finds her way into my thoughts at least once a day.
YOU ARE READING
Never Humble
Non-FictionFor those whose thoughts are frightening, but not enough so that they became a danger to those around them. For those whose thoughts run rampant, causing chaos in your mind, but still having that slight bit of hope you hang onto that we address by s...
