Counting Steps

h e r

The first time I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw was when I was maybe twelve years old. My dad had died a year earlier and my depression had became the only thing that consumed me.

I was lonely without being alone.

My family loved and support me. I was lucky.

I didn't feel grateful at the time, though. I didn't feel guilty that I was putting my family through my issues and I didn't feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I was twelve, I didn't know what my family knew.

At the time I didn't have many friends. Maybe a few people I would occasionally say hi to and sit with at lunch if need be. I was reserved and didn't like talking to people that much. I got used to the quiet.

I wouldn't have minded a little company, though.

That's when I met her. Well, not then exactly. I first met her in elementary school. She was one of those kids who your parents naturally wanted you to be friends with because they knew the parents of the other kid. She was in cheerleading with me. We didn't talk much but she never failed to make me smile.

Throughout the years we gradually became closer. We clicked in a way I still can't explain correctly, even to this day.

It was in fourth grade when she stopped coming to class. She was gone for almost two years and when she came back she said that she had been homeschooled. I wouldn't specifically say that I missed her, we hadn't talked much for a while, after all. She had her own problems and I had mine. I didn't want to ask too much and risk our distant friendship.

We started talking again at the end of fifth grade. She became, to put it simply, my best friend. If anyone mentioned her name I would immediately recognize her as the one I could be comfortable around.

That was rare for me with anyone at the time.

Now, take in mind, I say she was my best friend even though we barely talked because I didn't talk to anyone then.

It was in middle school when she started introducing me to new people. I was wandering around in the cafeteria, trying to find, once again, another random table to sit at with people who I didn't really know. All that mattered was that if they didn't hate me I would sit next to them.

She called me over to sit next to her and introduced me to a few other people. I was thankful that she helped me meet new people.

With her was my permanent seat from then on.

At some point we learned that we were actually distant cousins...kinda.

I couldn't have been happier. I'm not gonna go into detail about that, though.

When she called me her best friend I felt like the king of the world. I only hoped that she felt the same way.

Soon, I opened up my doors a little and let people in. I made more friends and her and I became even closer. Now, if it makes sense, I have more than one best friend, and I couldn't be anymore thankful for that.

Mari, as much as you hate that nickname, you helped me grow.

If it wasn't for you I might not have ever opened up to the world.

With you it's not too bad.