thatoneweirdgirlev

I'm back!

thatoneweirdgirlev

I guess I just worry about her. Her new "best friend" doesn't seem like a friend to me. I want to step in and push her away, and shove....her....to safety. I want to protect her from that bitch who calls herself her bestfriend. I can see it in her eyes she doesn't really care about her. 
          
          But we can't be friends. I want her just to find people who accept her and love her even in her bouts of bitchiness. 
          
          I don't pray often, but I guess I will ask the universe or God or someone to keep an eye on her and help her.

thatoneweirdgirlev

I kinda sorta miss my ex bestfriend. She is an ex bestfriend for a reason. She is more judgmental than I am and cruel and could turn her back on you in a second. One minute she would be fine the next something you did would set her off. Nothing is her fault. It's always someone else or pms. 
          But I miss our long convos about everything. I miss talking for hours about guys we liked. I miss protecting her when people would talk behind her back and I miss making up after fights. 
          I don't know though. I feel like this is for the best. Doesn't mean I can't miss her.

thatoneweirdgirlev

This is like a story for everyone feeling like cutting or killing themselves. One of my friends who had been clean for a while relapsed and, well, this is mostly for him. 
          
          I sobbed and clutched the jacket in my clammy hands. I knelt beside the solid gray marble and leaned against it, pressing my forehead To the cool rock. Tears trickled down my cheeks like rivers, and landed one after another onto the grass. I pressed my face into the jacket in my hands and let out a shriek and another bout of sobbing. Everyone else had left hours ago, off to grieve on their own, but I stayed behind. "I promised you. I promised I would be here for you," I whispered and resisted the urge to beat my own brains out with a rock. "I made a promise and I couldn't keep it and now your de-," I choked on the word. I couldn't say it. 
          Four days ago, my best friend swallowed a handful of pills. By the time his brother found him, he was gone. I remember standing at the funeral by the casket, crying silently. I couldn't help it. That one messy strand hung in his face like always, so I pushed it back. It drove him crazy. 
          I draped my arms around the stone and cried, the jacket hanging over my arms. I breathed in the scent and let out another quivering sob. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry," I whispered.