How many people truly know the meaning out this? I know I do. Putting it to words could be rather difficult though. I don’t remember an exact day when I the words “best friend” first crossed my mind or even who they were in reference to.
Growing up, I felt like I had a strange curse. All of my “best friends” always left me with the exception of my best friend and cousin who has always been there in the background. There was Hailey, our neighbor that I grew up with. I was convinced that we would forever be together. She moved to the wretched land of Canada. All my other friends knew how close we were and consoled me. I soon met Catherine, a foster child who talked to me as I moped the exit of Hailey from my life. We became as close as we could be within a year’s time, but she too moved. Foster children always seems to be leaving. My next best friend was a girl that I still see everyday. We were close from the fourth grade to about sixth when our class schedules no longer matched up enough. This year, twelfth grade, is actually the first time that I’ve had a class with her since. I was left in middle school best-friend less. I finally found a new best friend in a boy in my math class. A boy that I lost quickly to his girlfriends to be (though, they are both close to me now, 4 years later.) It was around this point, in eight grade that I began to call my new neighbor my best friend. I had known her for about half a year. For almost all of the 5 years that I’ve known this girl, I’ve called her my best friend.
I have had exactly one person who I called best friend without hesitation, I could never see anything going wrong. Why? Because I saw nothing else but perfection in my best friend. When I say perfection, I don’t mean each action was perfectly good or that she did nothing wrong, far from that. I saw the perfect best friend according to my history. A best friend who would not leave me. A friend who I would maintain ties with my whole life, never lose to the corrosiveness of time. All I worried about was physical distance and not having enough time together. I forgot about the depth of out relationship, I forgot about the inevitable chaos that enters our lives.
I have such trouble saying these two words now, best friend. Why? Because my fatal flaw is my lack of the ability to forgive. Granted, I say I have forgiven. I have for the most part. I have forgiven my friend for her actions, for her choices. I have not forgiven her for teaching my a lesson about myself. I am not as independent as I like to think. I’m always looking for support. I think my little best-friend chronology shows that. I need people. I especially need her.
My mother came in for a second to show me a new shirt that she had bought and I asked her to stay. I told her about the awful day that my friend had gone through today. I told her about the things that she had to deal with. Alone, without me. I feel terrible, I hoped all day long that she would make plans with me. Now that I think about it, why would she? All that she wanted was to forget it all. It is the job of a “best friend” to deem it necessary to make plans and execute them when a friend is feeling down. My mother gave me one look and told me to stop worrying about it and to try to study. My mother has obviously never experienced the companionship of a best friend.
I have an awful headache right now that is making reading my government book to prepare for my test tomorrow almost impossible. I think sleep would be a better idea.