@user-xn6so3bp7h

5 months ago

Sometimes I think I regret it but either way, my best friend came to live with my dad and I. I knew her before we ever even started Kindergarten. We met when we lived across the street from each other. For many years before we hit puberty she was very kind to me. Then when our hormones changed our friendship did as well. The sympathy we had for each other all but disappeared. I was always reluctant to get in a  relationship with anyone. She, on the other hand, lived and breathed the idea of being someone's girlfriend. I can't say I really blame her. Love, even in the lesser viewed version of lust, is what drives us as a species. After her mom got sent to prison her rebellious nature reached its full potential. Dad being the most counterintuitively trusting person I know, actually thought that she wouldn't push the boundaries of the rules to their extremes  and lead herself to her own demise. She didn't understand at first that dad didn't deserve that father of the year mug. In her eyes, the fact that he didn't physically or sexually abuse us like so many of the other men in her life was what most likely fueled her respect for him. We were definitely more like sisters than friends. Mom used to call it a sibling rivalry. We would call each other Yogi and Boo Boo when we were more in sync. She liked the Red Hot Chili Peppers and was always sure of herself when it came to fashion and makeup. We liked Soap Operas. She was smart even though her grades didn't always show it. She had an interesting vocabulary and loved her computer time. At one point she was kind of the Queen Bee and the mom of our friend group at the same time. Now she is forever 22. Or so it says on social media around the anniversaries of her death and birthday every year which never fail to get at least 30 comments. I didn't go to her casket viewing, only her memorial service. From what I hear her mom jumped on top of the casket and everyone was high on their drug of choice. They felt the need to say they could have done the makeup on her cold dead face better than the cosmetologist did. Her children were not at the funeral. Everyone also felt the need to say they knew her better than anyone there. I probably had the shortest speech. I didn't want to sound like I was the only one who loved her or deserved to be there but sometimes it feels like it. When I hear the song time after time, occasionally I burst into tears because it reminds me of us being kids playing in my room with that song playing.

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