To my best friend.

When we met it was the 15th day of 3rd grade

I sat alone in the corner like I always had

But this time, you were there with someone

Admiring his Heelys

I don’t remember now what I said

But from then on

We were An unstoppable force,

Too young to know heartbreak.

 

To the first girl I cuddled with.

That day in third grade seemed like so long ago,

5th grade was quite the year.

It was the last year of innocence,

The last year of simple.

I can remember lying in bed with you

Giggling about how Alex was just right for both of us,

And singing along to a movie

We were too young to watch

Staying up until the streetlight went to sleep.

 

And I remember how you said you hated the way they flickered

Because it reminded you

Of the things you said you dreamed about

When I wasn’t there.

 

Things that a 12 year old shouldn’t know.

I guess I always thought you grew up first.

 

To my best friend

I remember 6th grade

When you finally hit a growth spirt

And started to gain curves

And I stopped growing up and

Started growing out.

 

You started to pay attention to the boys,

And I started to pay attention

To the way you drew,

Or the way your feet pointed when you walked,,

Or how your eyes lit up

When we sat on the roof of your grandma's house

To look at the stars

In the middle of winter

Because you said the house made your blood too hot

Even though the heat hadn’t worked in three years.

 

And even though I looked at you

Like you looked at one blonde boy after another,

you never noticed me.

And I always seemed to find myself pretending to be interested,

In the same guys you were.

Because things were confusing,

and I was searching for simple.

 

To the girl that made me question,

7th grade year was the year you dated Alex,

By then, we both knew he was gay,

But you expected more out of him anyway. You two would hang out,

Leaving me at home by myself,

Just like things had been before we met.

 

But what stumped me was,

When we stood outside,

After a dance,

The streetlights flickering,

You asked me if I liked girls.

 

I had told you I had thought about it.

Because you were still my best friend,

And best friends tell secrets.

But really, I did think about it.

About her.

But we let it blow away, like dust on a shelf,

And talked about that cute new boy.

 

But by the time 8th grade year came and went,

Our dearest friend had moved away,

And we moved up again.

 

You started dating guys online,

And I stopped eating,

But we still stayed up past the streetlights,

And told secrets,

We just slept on different ends of the bed.

 

9th grade the hardest.

Because halfway through,

You left me too.

 

That was my biggest fear.

 

And I remember crying when I drove away

From your house for the last time.

It was the ugly kind where your chest heaves.

It was like a scene in a hallmark movie.

You were my first love,

And then you were gone.

 

And at the beginning,

 

You told me about the nightmares,

The ones I once thought I kept away,

And how they got worse,

And how the people down south were terrible,

And how you missed Michigan,

How you missed Madison,

How you missed me.

 

But somewhere along the line,

 

You stopped asking how everyone was,

And you started talking more about school,

And the kids I could never even being to know.

And this guy

Who was the man of your dreams?

And he made you feel special,

I wish I made you feel special…

 

And you still said the streetlights scared you when the flickered,

Because now the reminded you of the monsters you made up yourself.

 

Breaking up is hard,

Especially when you were never together in the first place.

 

It took time but eventually,

I stopped remembering what it was like,

To lay on your rooftop in the winter,

And I started to appreciate the streetlights.

And the cracks in the pavement,

And the girls.

 

God did I recognize the girls.

Finally I stopped thinking about it,

And started embracing it.

 

And then alone wasn’t so bad.

 

To my ex best friend,

after three weeks of not talking

You finally messaged me

And told me,

You didn’t want to talk to me anymore,

Because all I talked about was girls.

 

That's when I realized.

maybe it was me who grew up first.

 

It took 18 years but now i see, growing up is

Losing people you loved,

Or realizing you didn’t love them at all,

It’s knowing where you’re at,

And having no clue where you are going,

Loving not only yourself,

But the stars that you looked at,

It’s making mistakes,

And realizing you’re worth something more than this goddamn town.

It’s meeting the love of your life,

And noticing their hands when they draw,

It’s finding good music,

And it’s liking things because you like them,

Not because someone else told you too.

It’s learning about the ocean

and not being afraid of drowning

And it’s finding the beauty in flickering streetlights.