When you moved into my old house, it was weird. I had some mixed feelings about it. I didn't have a choice, so I choked down whatever I was dealing with and we became friends. Me, you, and all of our siblings. I loved your sense of adventure and spirit. You were silly and kind. I have some wonderful memories of wading in the creek outside of your house, under the bridge. Catching crawfish, checking for leeches, watching our older siblings make fires in the woods. Our siblings threw me a surprise birthday party, late March, including a fake red rose, which I dipped into the cake frosting. I remember a silly talent show where you called me, "Bootsy" like Bootsy Collins and pretended you were a famous country singer. I think we even got some Big League Chew for the effect. Your basement smelled like sick cats, a smell that brings back those fond memories. We wore moon shoes, played video games, and made forts. Then, one year, I had to move away. LV, you were my first true best friend. I loved you so much. More than I had ever loved another person outside my family. I would ride down to your house when I had a bike or run when I didn't and knock on your door, patiently hoping you were home. Your sister SBV was my best friend for a little while. We shared the same birthday but she was older. I liked that she had her own room and her big canopy bed. She had a room like a princess. But, I liked you and your little brother GV more. You two had matching beds which were always made. I liked the minimal style in your room. You showed me a box under your bed of treasures that you didn't let your bothers see. I was as in love as a little girl could be.
We flipped through Ranger Rick. You told me about how sharks were your favorite. We were on the tan team that year. Everyone else had more teachers but, we just had two. One was younger and pregnant. She had blonde hair and a tired face. She was athletic and energetic. The other teacher was cold, mean, and old. He was snarky and rude. Sometimes we got to sit together, when it was our choice. You ate my cell project when no one else would. (It was a cake made with green food coloring, everyone else made models out of non-edible things.) You said it was good and tried to get other kids to eat it, too. When I got in trouble and was told to sit in the hallway, you got a bathroom pass and sat with me to reassure me everything was okay and it wasn't that fun in class anyways. When we got older, we reconnected but, you were with the skater kids and I was with the nerds. We talked about sea creatures again but, it wasn't enough to seek each other out. We didn't have any common classes besides Unified Arts and Tech. We still sat near each other when we could. JA, you were my best friend for awhile. Then we grew apart.
JG. I adored you. I loved your goofy, curly brown hair. Thursdays were my favorite because Sifl & Oly was on tv and I could watch it after Jeopardy, when my mom went to bed and didn't care if I took over the remote. We would talk about it in Spanish the next day. You drew comics like Futurama, The Simpson's, and your own stuff, too. You always cracked me up and you had a large vocabulary. I would watch your leg bounce up and down while you drew on your notebook in class. You were always in your own world and when you let me into it, I was in love. You wrote an inside joke in my middle school year book. I barely know what it means now. We talked about each episode of Sifl & Oly and when we ran out of jokes from the show, we talked about Futurama. I didn't know anyone else who shared my quirky love of weird shows and art. I checked out in seventh grade because of trauma. I don't remember what happened to us after that.
I don't remember how we became such good friends but, we did. We called each other all the time. You looked like Drew Carey and I found it kitschy. We trick-or-treated together. You even dressed up as a Charlie's Angel when I wanted to go as Drew Barrymore. We saw a bunch of rated R movies together even though we were just in middle school. One of our parents would drop us off at the movies and we'd buy a ticket to a PG film then sneak into another one we wanted to see. We saw so many scary movies. I kept some of the ticket stubs. I might still have some in a scrapbook. I loved our talks. We talked about everything and nothing. You were my best friend. Possibly, one of the best. When we got older, I drank my first shot with you. I barely flinched with a chug of vodka while your friend's T and M choked on the dryness with you. You were impressed and I felt alive. We went to a football game and I had on a white t-shirt which I had people sign. I knew the suggestion was just an excuse to talk about how I had grown boobs. I didn't mind. I kind of dug the attention. It took a turn when I started talking to M on the phone. You knew I had a crush on him but he had a girlfriend. He was even talking about having sex with her already. I guess at a certain point it became too much to keep being friends with a group of three guys. Someone was bound to be hurt. I definitely got hurt. But, I never intended to hurt you AK. I remember I smiled at you when we had LCTC together and you were part of the "blue shirts" while I was a "maroon shirt." We were in Honors together and I wanted to reach out to you but, I felt like you walled up from me. I still don't really know why you stopped being my friend but your girlfriend in tenth grade, RF, hinted it was because you liked me. I really don't know if that's true. I don't think of our friendship in that way and I can't see how you would. I shared everything with you. Good and bad. I liked you as a friend but, not more. I loved you deep down but, not romantically.
MB, I met you through my first two boyfriends. You told me your favorite book when you were a kid, Goodnight Moon. You showed me a stop animation you made when you were little and before you had gone through puberty. I liked your curly, red hair and your little convertible. You were short and silly and I loved all your quirks. I was enthralled by you. Your bedroom was weirdly set up, with carpeted stairs leading to your overstuffed desk and dark blue bedspread on a queen bed. Your house had a pool and when I went swimming there, I was self-conscious. We hung out a lot and talked on the phone often. But, you were friends with my boyfriend. Who cheated on me. I wanted to cheat back. I almost did. I cuddled with you on my neighbors couch after I found out he kissed another girl. If you would have kissed me, I wouldn't have stopped you. Later, you were angry with me. You hacked into my blog and changed my password. You deleted my things and wrote that I was a fat bitch. I think that's when I realized you were no longer my best friend.
Every Wednesday, you picked me up in your mom's old blue Honda Accord. You had wild, brown hair that was greasy and would dread. You would rip them from your head and toss them like it was a leaf you found. Your coke-bottle thick glasses were hidden by your long, dark swoopy bangs. When you finally would look up from the ground at me, I would see your giant dark eyes, magnified hilariously by your specs. You were expressive but, cool. Your pant legs rarely matched in length, half shredded from wear. There were always holes and stains on your shirts. You wore old New Balances and slouched but, you still towered over me. You talked to me about the girl you were seeing, who wouldn't commit to you. It bothered you because you were a free spirit but, you really liked her. I could tell you had a lot of inner turmoil about her. You would make loud thinking noises and say, "I dunno, BETS. I dunno." You always called me "Bets" and it was always louder than every other word. One day, you jokingly said you wanted to make out with me and it made me jump. I felt like you meant it. Deep down, I think you really meant it. But, you knew I was dating JB. He was one of your best friends. We would pick him up sometimes to go to open mic night. We lived close to each other so you would always give me a ride, have a very interesting chat, and give me a good hug. I adored you. I loved your art. I still have the Beck painting you did for one art project at school. I picked yours out of the ones hanging in the hallway by the lockers. You told me to take it if I liked it and I tore it down off the wall the next chance I could. You were surprised I liked it. I framed it. You were like a big brother to me, since you are two years older than me. I thought you were sweet and funny. I never considered you more than a friend because I didn't think I had a chance. One Thanksgiving, I walked from the top of Blossom Hill (from GM's house) to your neighborhood because GM and I got to talking about how cool you were. We knocked on your door and your mom sweetly invited us in but we declined and came back later, after dinner. I remember you showed me the garage where you got drunk and painted, alone. I thought it was messy but minimal. There was paint in spots here and there but, mostly just what you needed to make the giant pieces your mom put up all over her house. You showed me your room once and I wasn't sure if I should let myself fall in love with you or not. Your bed was made, a twin, vintage green cover, a dresser that was neat and clean next to it, and various drawings you had done and needed to ponder. It looked like I had walked into the bedroom from the 1960s. It was minimal and smelled like an old book. You graduated and went to Philly for college. I saw you walking in the city almost ten years later. I got your number from my husband's ex-girlfriend, your cousin. I called you and said that I was "Betsy, from high school" and you called me back saying, "BETSY, from high schooool???" You had forgotten me, it seemed but, a part of you must have remembered how you always said my name louder from somewhere deep. You seemed depressed but, I enjoyed hearing about your wonderful life as a painter. I hope you found some happiness, AG, because I always will love you, deep down, and wish you the best. Also, I only ever called you by your last name so it was weird that you answered the phone saying you were A. You may have been my absolute favorite best friend.
E. You were a whirlwind. You still are- I think this while chuckling sadly. I met you when I was dating JB. We met in the hallway while everyone was playing hacky-sack outside of Mrs. Fritz's art rooms before class. I loved your big, wild, tight, springy white blonde curls. I loved your all black Vans. The jeans and white t-shirt you wore. I loved that you had a black leather choker on, wrapped around your neck several times. You would draw on your shirts with sharpie. Something simple. Symbols usually. Or a character. The next year we had European Studies together. I didn't recognize you when I walked in and found a seat because you got too hot playing soccer over the summer and shaved your head. After the teacher called out your name and you raised your hand, I locked eyes with you. As soon as she finished and said we could move into different seats, I found you and sat next to you. We would trade hand drawn comics to each other, back and forth. You invited me over to your house, a big old stone place by the Jukebox, and we played capture the flag with your little brother and your friends. You had a painting you did of Sid Vicious on the wall and I started falling for you. You "courted" me as you put it, showing up at my work to visit me. You called me and we talked all the time. You would give me presents and made fun of me. You wouldn't let me be down, you would make a joke and we'd laugh it off. You sure are something else. I loved your greasy glasses and your big green eyes. You called me "Bet to the C" when you felt silly and "Bets" when you were disappointed in me. When JB and I broke up, we slept together. You accidentally pulled on my Levi's once, after, and it became your new favorite pair of jeans. I would watch you play video games and encourage you to go to school even though you eventually dropped out and then got your GED. I would bring books with herbs to do research while you skated. Sometimes, I would bring my Minolta and take pictures of you and your friends. You would complain that other girls never had any hobbies and you liked that I always had something to do. You never felt like you had to entertain me. I think you did want to entertain me but, it took the pressure off. After we started dating, it changed some things for us. I could tell you were seeing other girls and saying you weren't. I could tell you were lying but, you would deny it. They would reach out to me behind your back and ask me advice on how to get you to love them like you loved me. It was hard to love you. Just as hard as it was to let you go. I would come to every one of your shows and watch you sing to another girl. You showed your best friend how I "liked it" at my birthday party right before I found out you were still pursuing your ex-girlfriend. I screamed at you in my driveway louder than I ever felt possible. You were the only person I ever dated that I tried to punch in the face. You grabbed my right fist mid air and I punched you with my left. Your little brother grabbed your hand when you raised it to me from the front seat of your Red Jetta. We were toxic. Sid and Nancy. We probably would have killed each other if you weren't straight edge and Vegan. Years later, we had moved on and you and I moved out together. You were the first person I ever lived with besides my family. It worked. Until, it didn't. You stopped paying rent and then you moved your milk crate out. I found another roommate for the last few months of the lease and then I moved in by myself. Years later, you tried reconnecting with me. It turned into a whole mess and I cut you out of my life again. I obsessed over you when I was with you and when I wasn't with you, I obsessed on how to slam the door in your fucking face. You got a tattoo on your stomach for me, your first one ever. A black heartagram. My first tattoo was a black spider. I felt like I was filled with poison. My next tattoo, a black heart, was how I felt after being your best friend. Empty. Black. Hollow. You still send me messages. I just got one the other day from you. I won't ever reply. I'm sorry. I can't feel that way ever again. Theres a part of me that will always love you but, it feels like a cancer, eating me away. You are a demon, IS.
I remember the manager said, "welcome aboard!" way too enthusiastically when I got hired. She stuck her hand out and I looked at her hand and then her face blankly, unsure what to do. I grabbed it and she shook my hand. The woman who trained me was pregnant and so adorable. I thought she was the sweetest woman I had ever met and the most beautiful as well. She wore red lipstick with her uniform and always had kind words. After a few shifts, I looked up from the computer, after clocking in, and I saw you behind the grill. I think my face went red when I recognized you from high school. I didn't know anyone else and I felt like it was a different world. As soon as I saw you I became a deer in headlights. You got a little pink in the face, too, and I thought you were so cute. Your freckles were prominent all over your pale skin and your hat was turned just a little askew. Your dark reddish brown hair stuck out from the sides. We got to talking over time and eventually, started hanging out after work. I quickly realized you had two crushes. One on N Bagel, and the other on L. I understood why. N Bagel had hair like a barbie, thick and blonde. It hung like a sheet down her back. She would braid it in a single thick strand that rested in the middle of her shoulder blades. L was beautiful as well. She was kind and gentle and cut hair. She cut your hair and I took that you liked your head being touched. IS did as well. I can always tell. I had a boyfriend at the time but, I forgot about him completely when I clocked into my other world. You gave me this look when I talked about him. A look like, "come on, that guy?" I felt like he was a huge douche when I saw that look on your face. We spend a lot of time together where we didn't share a lot. You just sort of listened to me spew about whatever. I liked how calm you were and how you were always nice. After about a year of being friends I came over to your house and you opened up a whole bunch to me. You even said in the middle of it, "I don't know why I'm telling you all this." Someone came outside from partying inside and it broke whatever bond we had made. You made some jokes and shied away. I drank the rest of my drink then left. I started dating someone else and then you started dating a few girls from work. It was weird for a time. Seeing you date other people when I had a crush on you. We ended up going to N Bagel's wedding together. I had broken my foot and you helped me hobble in with AG. I stopped working at Isaac's and I tried reaching out but, I only came out as desperate and like the huge dork I am. When it was just us talking, you thought it was cute. But, when others were around, I felt my place was elsewhere. You reached out to me after you got married. I think you were scared to have a baby. I think I made it worse- haha! You had to have known I would tell you too much when you asked me. I'm happy for you and your little family. I hope you are well. Also, it's weird that you never really talked about your twin, TB.
One day I came home from work and you were over. You needed a place to live, and we were talking about moving downtown. We became friends fast and began hanging out together. We drank wine and made meals together. We went to Roots and Market and shows together. We spent time just being ourselves. We went for walks and shared silly inside jokes and talked about our favorite things to do. You became my best friend, UA. We talked about art, you inspired me to write again. You inspired me to draw. To do collages. To make delicious foods and cook again. I adored your paintings. You started coming home on your lunch breaks when my boyfriend wasn't home and eating at the table with me. You worked far enough away that it made no sense for you to do this. You clearly came home to see me. Sometimes, I would be waiting with some vegan meal to share. I had a fantasy where a life with you made a whole lot of sense. We would be tiny, quiet people together. Sharing art, literature, wine, and meals. We did everything a couple did, except physically touching. One day, we did. I felt like, "Oh Fuck," because, I knew it was the end of our friendship. I broke up with my boyfriend. No, fiancé. We had problems but, I glossed them over because I was playing house with you. You two were best friends. I fucked it all up. I wished I didn't. I wished I would have just broken up with him, moved on, and maybe hoped we would meet again. But, that's not how it happened. You told me there was no universe where we would ever be together. you told me that you never liked me. You told me that anything I felt was all in my head. You told me that I was nothing to you and that if ANYONE came up to you the night we kissed, it would be them instead. I hung in front of you, a ripe, juicy peach and you took a bite and threw it to the ground. You crushed my heart. I kept the mixed CD you made me for my birthday. The one with the collage inside and the obvious love songs that had nothing to do with birthdays along with songs that did. I kept an x-mas card you sent us after I got married to your friend. I framed it and hung it in my living room for years. I still have an owl you drew a mustache on inside of a heart locket. I found an old notebook last winter with your handwriting in it. You wrote, "all my beets are fries." I remember that one. Maybe, it was nothing to you. But, being your best friend sure did mean a lot to me. Even if it ended up exploding in one of the most heart wrenching ways. I still think about you from time to time. I see you with your son sometimes, too. I wonder if I could have just been single when we met, how different it would have been. No sense in dreaming about a man stuck in that mess. It was what it was. A mess. A terrible mess. A tragic mess.
I stopped letting my best friend be male for awhile after UA, until I ran into you. I remember meeting you as a kid. I was awkward, insecure, and scared when I saw you. I thought you were ugly and goofy and making fun of me. You laughed and asked what was wrong with me and left shortly after that. I had never had that reaction meeting someone before. Not since I was a child and adults would try to talk to me. I don't know why you made me so scared. Something about you made me shut down inside. You triggered some deep down things in me. I saw you again in passing that year. You were hugging my grandma and thanking her. I smiled at you but, you didn't recognize me and nodded, walking out the door. I remember wondering if I would see you again but, I didn't have a reason why. I did wonder why you were hugging my grandma though. You don't remember any of that. I don't mind. I was sober. You probably weren't. I think you still have problems remembering what you say to me when you sober up. Sometimes, it's hard to know how you really feel. You sometimes do the opposite of what you say to me. I usually just go with the flow and accept whatever you are comfortable with sharing. SB, you came into my life at weird times. I wanted to know you. You pursued me and it surprised me. I didn't think you liked me. I thought you were just a flirt. A few times, the things you said were really pointed and I took your meaning. I don't know when you realized I passed all the stupid tests you and TM put me through but, I must have at some point. We started off weird. Simultaneously both wanting to feel something and never feel again. I still don't know what you were thinking when you started to be my best friend but, for whatever reason, we get each other. Now, I wonder if things should be different or if we are meant to just do this thing. Or any number of overthinking I do. Some things you say and do make me think there's more to you. Some things make me think I should just let you go so I can move on. Some things make me think I am moving on. All I know is, you're my damn best friend, ya fucking weirdo. I adore you and your weird quirks. I like your little black framed glasses, even if you hate them. I like that you are particular about certain things. I like that you include me in your life. I like your minimalist apartment(s). I like your big ideas for your future. I like that we can talk for hours about certain things. I like that you open up about really important women in your life. I like that I can trust you with anything. And that's also scary, too.
We flipped through Ranger Rick. You told me about how sharks were your favorite. We were on the tan team that year. Everyone else had more teachers but, we just had two. One was younger and pregnant. She had blonde hair and a tired face. She was athletic and energetic. The other teacher was cold, mean, and old. He was snarky and rude. Sometimes we got to sit together, when it was our choice. You ate my cell project when no one else would. (It was a cake made with green food coloring, everyone else made models out of non-edible things.) You said it was good and tried to get other kids to eat it, too. When I got in trouble and was told to sit in the hallway, you got a bathroom pass and sat with me to reassure me everything was okay and it wasn't that fun in class anyways. When we got older, we reconnected but, you were with the skater kids and I was with the nerds. We talked about sea creatures again but, it wasn't enough to seek each other out. We didn't have any common classes besides Unified Arts and Tech. We still sat near each other when we could. JA, you were my best friend for awhile. Then we grew apart.
JG. I adored you. I loved your goofy, curly brown hair. Thursdays were my favorite because Sifl & Oly was on tv and I could watch it after Jeopardy, when my mom went to bed and didn't care if I took over the remote. We would talk about it in Spanish the next day. You drew comics like Futurama, The Simpson's, and your own stuff, too. You always cracked me up and you had a large vocabulary. I would watch your leg bounce up and down while you drew on your notebook in class. You were always in your own world and when you let me into it, I was in love. You wrote an inside joke in my middle school year book. I barely know what it means now. We talked about each episode of Sifl & Oly and when we ran out of jokes from the show, we talked about Futurama. I didn't know anyone else who shared my quirky love of weird shows and art. I checked out in seventh grade because of trauma. I don't remember what happened to us after that.
I don't remember how we became such good friends but, we did. We called each other all the time. You looked like Drew Carey and I found it kitschy. We trick-or-treated together. You even dressed up as a Charlie's Angel when I wanted to go as Drew Barrymore. We saw a bunch of rated R movies together even though we were just in middle school. One of our parents would drop us off at the movies and we'd buy a ticket to a PG film then sneak into another one we wanted to see. We saw so many scary movies. I kept some of the ticket stubs. I might still have some in a scrapbook. I loved our talks. We talked about everything and nothing. You were my best friend. Possibly, one of the best. When we got older, I drank my first shot with you. I barely flinched with a chug of vodka while your friend's T and M choked on the dryness with you. You were impressed and I felt alive. We went to a football game and I had on a white t-shirt which I had people sign. I knew the suggestion was just an excuse to talk about how I had grown boobs. I didn't mind. I kind of dug the attention. It took a turn when I started talking to M on the phone. You knew I had a crush on him but he had a girlfriend. He was even talking about having sex with her already. I guess at a certain point it became too much to keep being friends with a group of three guys. Someone was bound to be hurt. I definitely got hurt. But, I never intended to hurt you AK. I remember I smiled at you when we had LCTC together and you were part of the "blue shirts" while I was a "maroon shirt." We were in Honors together and I wanted to reach out to you but, I felt like you walled up from me. I still don't really know why you stopped being my friend but your girlfriend in tenth grade, RF, hinted it was because you liked me. I really don't know if that's true. I don't think of our friendship in that way and I can't see how you would. I shared everything with you. Good and bad. I liked you as a friend but, not more. I loved you deep down but, not romantically.
MB, I met you through my first two boyfriends. You told me your favorite book when you were a kid, Goodnight Moon. You showed me a stop animation you made when you were little and before you had gone through puberty. I liked your curly, red hair and your little convertible. You were short and silly and I loved all your quirks. I was enthralled by you. Your bedroom was weirdly set up, with carpeted stairs leading to your overstuffed desk and dark blue bedspread on a queen bed. Your house had a pool and when I went swimming there, I was self-conscious. We hung out a lot and talked on the phone often. But, you were friends with my boyfriend. Who cheated on me. I wanted to cheat back. I almost did. I cuddled with you on my neighbors couch after I found out he kissed another girl. If you would have kissed me, I wouldn't have stopped you. Later, you were angry with me. You hacked into my blog and changed my password. You deleted my things and wrote that I was a fat bitch. I think that's when I realized you were no longer my best friend.
Every Wednesday, you picked me up in your mom's old blue Honda Accord. You had wild, brown hair that was greasy and would dread. You would rip them from your head and toss them like it was a leaf you found. Your coke-bottle thick glasses were hidden by your long, dark swoopy bangs. When you finally would look up from the ground at me, I would see your giant dark eyes, magnified hilariously by your specs. You were expressive but, cool. Your pant legs rarely matched in length, half shredded from wear. There were always holes and stains on your shirts. You wore old New Balances and slouched but, you still towered over me. You talked to me about the girl you were seeing, who wouldn't commit to you. It bothered you because you were a free spirit but, you really liked her. I could tell you had a lot of inner turmoil about her. You would make loud thinking noises and say, "I dunno, BETS. I dunno." You always called me "Bets" and it was always louder than every other word. One day, you jokingly said you wanted to make out with me and it made me jump. I felt like you meant it. Deep down, I think you really meant it. But, you knew I was dating JB. He was one of your best friends. We would pick him up sometimes to go to open mic night. We lived close to each other so you would always give me a ride, have a very interesting chat, and give me a good hug. I adored you. I loved your art. I still have the Beck painting you did for one art project at school. I picked yours out of the ones hanging in the hallway by the lockers. You told me to take it if I liked it and I tore it down off the wall the next chance I could. You were surprised I liked it. I framed it. You were like a big brother to me, since you are two years older than me. I thought you were sweet and funny. I never considered you more than a friend because I didn't think I had a chance. One Thanksgiving, I walked from the top of Blossom Hill (from GM's house) to your neighborhood because GM and I got to talking about how cool you were. We knocked on your door and your mom sweetly invited us in but we declined and came back later, after dinner. I remember you showed me the garage where you got drunk and painted, alone. I thought it was messy but minimal. There was paint in spots here and there but, mostly just what you needed to make the giant pieces your mom put up all over her house. You showed me your room once and I wasn't sure if I should let myself fall in love with you or not. Your bed was made, a twin, vintage green cover, a dresser that was neat and clean next to it, and various drawings you had done and needed to ponder. It looked like I had walked into the bedroom from the 1960s. It was minimal and smelled like an old book. You graduated and went to Philly for college. I saw you walking in the city almost ten years later. I got your number from my husband's ex-girlfriend, your cousin. I called you and said that I was "Betsy, from high school" and you called me back saying, "BETSY, from high schooool???" You had forgotten me, it seemed but, a part of you must have remembered how you always said my name louder from somewhere deep. You seemed depressed but, I enjoyed hearing about your wonderful life as a painter. I hope you found some happiness, AG, because I always will love you, deep down, and wish you the best. Also, I only ever called you by your last name so it was weird that you answered the phone saying you were A. You may have been my absolute favorite best friend.
E. You were a whirlwind. You still are- I think this while chuckling sadly. I met you when I was dating JB. We met in the hallway while everyone was playing hacky-sack outside of Mrs. Fritz's art rooms before class. I loved your big, wild, tight, springy white blonde curls. I loved your all black Vans. The jeans and white t-shirt you wore. I loved that you had a black leather choker on, wrapped around your neck several times. You would draw on your shirts with sharpie. Something simple. Symbols usually. Or a character. The next year we had European Studies together. I didn't recognize you when I walked in and found a seat because you got too hot playing soccer over the summer and shaved your head. After the teacher called out your name and you raised your hand, I locked eyes with you. As soon as she finished and said we could move into different seats, I found you and sat next to you. We would trade hand drawn comics to each other, back and forth. You invited me over to your house, a big old stone place by the Jukebox, and we played capture the flag with your little brother and your friends. You had a painting you did of Sid Vicious on the wall and I started falling for you. You "courted" me as you put it, showing up at my work to visit me. You called me and we talked all the time. You would give me presents and made fun of me. You wouldn't let me be down, you would make a joke and we'd laugh it off. You sure are something else. I loved your greasy glasses and your big green eyes. You called me "Bet to the C" when you felt silly and "Bets" when you were disappointed in me. When JB and I broke up, we slept together. You accidentally pulled on my Levi's once, after, and it became your new favorite pair of jeans. I would watch you play video games and encourage you to go to school even though you eventually dropped out and then got your GED. I would bring books with herbs to do research while you skated. Sometimes, I would bring my Minolta and take pictures of you and your friends. You would complain that other girls never had any hobbies and you liked that I always had something to do. You never felt like you had to entertain me. I think you did want to entertain me but, it took the pressure off. After we started dating, it changed some things for us. I could tell you were seeing other girls and saying you weren't. I could tell you were lying but, you would deny it. They would reach out to me behind your back and ask me advice on how to get you to love them like you loved me. It was hard to love you. Just as hard as it was to let you go. I would come to every one of your shows and watch you sing to another girl. You showed your best friend how I "liked it" at my birthday party right before I found out you were still pursuing your ex-girlfriend. I screamed at you in my driveway louder than I ever felt possible. You were the only person I ever dated that I tried to punch in the face. You grabbed my right fist mid air and I punched you with my left. Your little brother grabbed your hand when you raised it to me from the front seat of your Red Jetta. We were toxic. Sid and Nancy. We probably would have killed each other if you weren't straight edge and Vegan. Years later, we had moved on and you and I moved out together. You were the first person I ever lived with besides my family. It worked. Until, it didn't. You stopped paying rent and then you moved your milk crate out. I found another roommate for the last few months of the lease and then I moved in by myself. Years later, you tried reconnecting with me. It turned into a whole mess and I cut you out of my life again. I obsessed over you when I was with you and when I wasn't with you, I obsessed on how to slam the door in your fucking face. You got a tattoo on your stomach for me, your first one ever. A black heartagram. My first tattoo was a black spider. I felt like I was filled with poison. My next tattoo, a black heart, was how I felt after being your best friend. Empty. Black. Hollow. You still send me messages. I just got one the other day from you. I won't ever reply. I'm sorry. I can't feel that way ever again. Theres a part of me that will always love you but, it feels like a cancer, eating me away. You are a demon, IS.
I remember the manager said, "welcome aboard!" way too enthusiastically when I got hired. She stuck her hand out and I looked at her hand and then her face blankly, unsure what to do. I grabbed it and she shook my hand. The woman who trained me was pregnant and so adorable. I thought she was the sweetest woman I had ever met and the most beautiful as well. She wore red lipstick with her uniform and always had kind words. After a few shifts, I looked up from the computer, after clocking in, and I saw you behind the grill. I think my face went red when I recognized you from high school. I didn't know anyone else and I felt like it was a different world. As soon as I saw you I became a deer in headlights. You got a little pink in the face, too, and I thought you were so cute. Your freckles were prominent all over your pale skin and your hat was turned just a little askew. Your dark reddish brown hair stuck out from the sides. We got to talking over time and eventually, started hanging out after work. I quickly realized you had two crushes. One on N Bagel, and the other on L. I understood why. N Bagel had hair like a barbie, thick and blonde. It hung like a sheet down her back. She would braid it in a single thick strand that rested in the middle of her shoulder blades. L was beautiful as well. She was kind and gentle and cut hair. She cut your hair and I took that you liked your head being touched. IS did as well. I can always tell. I had a boyfriend at the time but, I forgot about him completely when I clocked into my other world. You gave me this look when I talked about him. A look like, "come on, that guy?" I felt like he was a huge douche when I saw that look on your face. We spend a lot of time together where we didn't share a lot. You just sort of listened to me spew about whatever. I liked how calm you were and how you were always nice. After about a year of being friends I came over to your house and you opened up a whole bunch to me. You even said in the middle of it, "I don't know why I'm telling you all this." Someone came outside from partying inside and it broke whatever bond we had made. You made some jokes and shied away. I drank the rest of my drink then left. I started dating someone else and then you started dating a few girls from work. It was weird for a time. Seeing you date other people when I had a crush on you. We ended up going to N Bagel's wedding together. I had broken my foot and you helped me hobble in with AG. I stopped working at Isaac's and I tried reaching out but, I only came out as desperate and like the huge dork I am. When it was just us talking, you thought it was cute. But, when others were around, I felt my place was elsewhere. You reached out to me after you got married. I think you were scared to have a baby. I think I made it worse- haha! You had to have known I would tell you too much when you asked me. I'm happy for you and your little family. I hope you are well. Also, it's weird that you never really talked about your twin, TB.
One day I came home from work and you were over. You needed a place to live, and we were talking about moving downtown. We became friends fast and began hanging out together. We drank wine and made meals together. We went to Roots and Market and shows together. We spent time just being ourselves. We went for walks and shared silly inside jokes and talked about our favorite things to do. You became my best friend, UA. We talked about art, you inspired me to write again. You inspired me to draw. To do collages. To make delicious foods and cook again. I adored your paintings. You started coming home on your lunch breaks when my boyfriend wasn't home and eating at the table with me. You worked far enough away that it made no sense for you to do this. You clearly came home to see me. Sometimes, I would be waiting with some vegan meal to share. I had a fantasy where a life with you made a whole lot of sense. We would be tiny, quiet people together. Sharing art, literature, wine, and meals. We did everything a couple did, except physically touching. One day, we did. I felt like, "Oh Fuck," because, I knew it was the end of our friendship. I broke up with my boyfriend. No, fiancé. We had problems but, I glossed them over because I was playing house with you. You two were best friends. I fucked it all up. I wished I didn't. I wished I would have just broken up with him, moved on, and maybe hoped we would meet again. But, that's not how it happened. You told me there was no universe where we would ever be together. you told me that you never liked me. You told me that anything I felt was all in my head. You told me that I was nothing to you and that if ANYONE came up to you the night we kissed, it would be them instead. I hung in front of you, a ripe, juicy peach and you took a bite and threw it to the ground. You crushed my heart. I kept the mixed CD you made me for my birthday. The one with the collage inside and the obvious love songs that had nothing to do with birthdays along with songs that did. I kept an x-mas card you sent us after I got married to your friend. I framed it and hung it in my living room for years. I still have an owl you drew a mustache on inside of a heart locket. I found an old notebook last winter with your handwriting in it. You wrote, "all my beets are fries." I remember that one. Maybe, it was nothing to you. But, being your best friend sure did mean a lot to me. Even if it ended up exploding in one of the most heart wrenching ways. I still think about you from time to time. I see you with your son sometimes, too. I wonder if I could have just been single when we met, how different it would have been. No sense in dreaming about a man stuck in that mess. It was what it was. A mess. A terrible mess. A tragic mess.
I stopped letting my best friend be male for awhile after UA, until I ran into you. I remember meeting you as a kid. I was awkward, insecure, and scared when I saw you. I thought you were ugly and goofy and making fun of me. You laughed and asked what was wrong with me and left shortly after that. I had never had that reaction meeting someone before. Not since I was a child and adults would try to talk to me. I don't know why you made me so scared. Something about you made me shut down inside. You triggered some deep down things in me. I saw you again in passing that year. You were hugging my grandma and thanking her. I smiled at you but, you didn't recognize me and nodded, walking out the door. I remember wondering if I would see you again but, I didn't have a reason why. I did wonder why you were hugging my grandma though. You don't remember any of that. I don't mind. I was sober. You probably weren't. I think you still have problems remembering what you say to me when you sober up. Sometimes, it's hard to know how you really feel. You sometimes do the opposite of what you say to me. I usually just go with the flow and accept whatever you are comfortable with sharing. SB, you came into my life at weird times. I wanted to know you. You pursued me and it surprised me. I didn't think you liked me. I thought you were just a flirt. A few times, the things you said were really pointed and I took your meaning. I don't know when you realized I passed all the stupid tests you and TM put me through but, I must have at some point. We started off weird. Simultaneously both wanting to feel something and never feel again. I still don't know what you were thinking when you started to be my best friend but, for whatever reason, we get each other. Now, I wonder if things should be different or if we are meant to just do this thing. Or any number of overthinking I do. Some things you say and do make me think there's more to you. Some things make me think I should just let you go so I can move on. Some things make me think I am moving on. All I know is, you're my damn best friend, ya fucking weirdo. I adore you and your weird quirks. I like your little black framed glasses, even if you hate them. I like that you are particular about certain things. I like that you include me in your life. I like your minimalist apartment(s). I like your big ideas for your future. I like that we can talk for hours about certain things. I like that you open up about really important women in your life. I like that I can trust you with anything. And that's also scary, too.
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