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I've never been a big fan of change.
My life has always been consistent, going to one school from start to finish, hanging with the same group of friends throughout, and living in the same house.
Of course, this year had to ruin this consistency, and as I gather my things, the memories come flooding back, memories I suppressed for so long.
My first friend.
The picture of us stabs me in the heart as I stare at it, frozen. Ella.
I completely forgot about her.
We went to the same kindergarten, and then primary school. We were complete opposites; she was fair and rosy, while I was dark and olive. Teachers nicknamed us the two princesses because we were both so slim with long tumbling hair. At lunch times we would sit under a tree and braid each other's hair while telling stories of absolute nonsense. We made other friends too, together, because no one could separate us, not even the teachers.
But then high school came, and despite going to the same one, we were put in different classes. I remember feeling so alone in a class full of new people I didn't know, and I couldn't wait for the bell to ring so I could run to Ella, because I didn't want to make any new friends.
She had no problem making new friends.
When I found her, she was surrounded by all these girls, pretty girls, and they were laughing and chatting like they knew each other since forever. Ella invited me over, but the entire time I just sat there, too shy to talk, not that I had a chance to since I was completely ignored.
It went on like that every day.
And then I had to accept the truth: we were drifting apart. And there was nothing I could do about it. We were as good as strangers by the end of that year, and I was lucky that Grace and Opal found me, or rather, adopted me.
However, it wasn't long before they left me too.
I didn't know what it was. Perhaps all the friends I made all craved a bigger more exciting social life than I could offer them, and as we all grew older, the parties increased, while my leisure time decreased, especially with all the jobs I worked.
No one stuck around long enough for me to call them a true friend.
And it hurt, that Ella moved on, and I was left behind, time and time again, because I had other interests, or rather, other problems, that were more important than someone to sit with at lunch.
Seeing her face again, captured beside a younger me in a moment of pure joy and innocence, makes it more difficult for me to pack everything up, because I can never quite pack all those nostalgic memories up. They will always be inside of me, waiting for a trigger to shoot them out again into my conscience.
