Well, I've Done It Again.

My best friend left me, after being my best, and sometimes only friend for 15 years.

My dad was in love with a woman. Unfortunately, he was in love with not my mother, but my mother's best friend, who was also my best friend's mother. They were together for two years and then the world went to hell.

I'd lay in bed every single night and pray that I'd have two parents still when I woke up. I'd pray that they'd stop fighting every night. I'd pray that someone wouldn't drive off in anger and not come back for days. I'd pray that my mom would stop crying. I'd pray that she'd get out of bed most days.
But, then, God stopped answering my prayers and I woke up with one parent one day.

I watched my dad drive away while I sat in the driveway, crying. It seems silly now, to cry. Like that was ever going to change anything from the past. Crying never does. It just shows you're weak.

Then, my mom left too. Mentally. She'd just cry. Lay in bed, forever. Never eat. Just sleep and cry. I became the parent, quickly. I took care of my brothers: got them ready for school, cooked them food, made sure they did their homework, and made sure they got to school.

Then, one day, dad was back and my mom wasn't. They said she was in the hospital for a migraine. I guess a migraine is code word for suicide watch. We visited her in the psych ward for a week before she got to go home. She came home and got out of bed, cooked, cleaned, went out with friends, functioned. Life got better, but only for a little bit. Until one day, she tried to swallow all her meds and the police came and took her away. The police officer said I did the right thing and that I was brave. I did nothing. I thought she was just upset. They locked her up for two weeks that time.

My mom's friends had come over after she went crazy and smashed up the house with a baseball bat and called the police. I wasn't even home. They came bursting in the house, consoling us. Telling us it was alright. They stayed with us after they took her away, to make sure that we were alright.

I cooked.

School was a safe-haven from the misery that was my house-hold. But, even that slowly changed. I stopped caring about school and I stopped trying. I still don't know how I managed to graduate with a decent GPA, or graduate at all for that matter. Social services came, to see if we should still live with my mother. Teachers were sympathetic. I hated it. Hiding where I spent my evenings for weeks from my peers, especially when their parents came to visit my mother as well. I was embarrassed.

But there, I was able to talk to Mitch. Who was forcibly removed from my life after my dad left. It was "for my own good" as they told me, while I was blocked from all types of communication to my best and dearest friend.
We secretly met and talked. He didn't hate me. He didn't blame me. He promised we'd be friends forever, a promise that he had made to me days before we found out about my dad and his mom. I loved him and I didn't want to lose him.

When Mitch left, my world ended.

I was the weird kid with no friends throughout my childhood. I was alone. I was a freak. I was tormented and defeated by everyone I had ever associated with. There were days I'd be better off dead, but Mitch was always there. He took the jokes, the taunts, the rumors. He was popular and funny and everyone loved him, and I loved him. I still love him. He'd walk me home everyday, through the taunts of the kids at school. He told me I was beautiful, when I wasn't, and told me that I deserved so much better than what the girls at school were giving me. He even got the crap kicked out of him for trying to fight a kid who called me fat.
No matter what, he was there. And yes, when we got into our teenage years, he drifted. I didn't expect any less. He had his life that was so different from mine. But, even though he hurt me with that or would ignore me, he was still my friend. He was still there when I needed him.

Until he left. In a text message, he said the police were involved and he couldn't speak to me anymore. Then, he said he was sorry.

The police came to my mother and told her that if she kept "harassing" him mom, she'd go to prison for stalking. Her "harassment" was walking down main street to go to the gym and passed her work. Once. It was a case I could have won for my mother.

School was hell. Seeing him. Sitting by him in class. Pretending to care when all I wanted to do was either talk to him or tear out of the classroom every single morning, was torture. But the worst thing of all, was walking past him in the hall and pretending like we didn't even know each other.

We talked since then. Not much, but it's been three years. He says a few things and then we don't speak for months. I don't think he'll ever come back, and I know I shouldn't care. But I do.
kissmeimgryffindor kissmeimgryffindor
Dec 9, 2012