I remember the stories we wrote. All that fiction about the typical YA fantasy bull that we were so proud of. And rightly so. Our shit was amazing.
I remember all those poems. Hardly any happy ones. That suited us best.
I remember all the novels. All that Ted Dekker and Danielle Steele before we were old enough to know better.
I remember my ‘extracts’, and your short stories.
I remember that one time you dumped me.
I remember my disbelief at the fact that I could be dumped by a friend.
I remember we got back together and stayed that way. I don’t remember the how.
I remember the matching necklaces with the blue pendants.
I remember the bracelet with the different little images of Christ.
I remember the birthday card you made with everyone’s wishes inside. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. I still have it.
I remember us playing dance Wii, and me beating you cause I’m awesome like that.
I remember the nights by the dock, watching the ship lights glitter in the water.
I remember all the walks, and the talks, and all those plans.
I remember how I never really believed those plans were going to work. And when they didn’t, I sighed because reality got in the way too often.
I remember when ‘best friends’ became an empty phrase.
I remember wondering why I physically just couldn’t share my literary side with you. I still can’t. You don’t know I have this blog.
I remember not being able to respond to affection. And worrying that that would always be the crux of my problems.
I remember the list of your favorite people and my name being nowhere on it. I remember that more vividly than I’d like to. I remember how much it hurt.
I remember all the times you were distant for no reason.
I remember when you told me everything.
I remember having no idea what I could do to help. Cause I needed to help, but there wasn’t actually anything I could do.
You know I’m terrible at giving advice.
I remember all the times I fell short.
I remember old obsessions over Drake and Miguel and Lil Wayne.
I remember my cereal and your eclairs and her haribos.
I remember you calling me your sister and me feeling like your sister.