I was almost seven when my family lost our house
and we were forced to move to a new town
into another home, miles away from the one I was in since birth.
I was forced to say goodbye to my friends,
plaster a fake smile on my face,
and act like I wasn’t sad to start over in another city.
I was almost seven when I started second grade
in a brand new school, far from my own.
I was the only new girl and the complete outcast of my class.
The kids were all nice to me because that’s how kids are.
We’re all so nice and friendly as children,
then we grow up and judge and label each other.
I was finally seven and spent my birthday in class
celebrating with my very first best friend from my new and terrifying school,
who seemed to shine like the sun
and make me happy for so long.
It was her, who I hadn’t noticed at that time, that I would
be loving and calling my best friend my entire
time at this school, up until graduation.
The year before grade seven,
we were in the same class and sat together
all the time.
That year, we became closer than before.
She truly became my best friend
and I trusted her with my life.
We had our group of friends and I loved them all
but there was no hiding the fact she was always my favorite. How couldn’t she be?
She kept my secrets, she told me all of hers,
and she let me feel loved and appreciated.
We were in grade seven then,
and again we were in the same class,
which made us even closer.
We had lost touch with a friend that year,
but the two of us agreed we were forever.
We made our own “BFF” acronym with a stronger meaning,
and we wrote it everywhere we could
because our friendship was that good.
The year after seventh grade, we were still together
and stronger than ever.
We promised each other to never let go.
We promised to always stay the best of friends.
I graduated with her as my closest friend
and I started freshman year with her as my closest friend.
It’s too bad that didn’t last.
The end of our friendship’s seventh year,
she said she needed to stay away from me,
and she ended all means of conversation.
I don’t think she realizes exactly how much
that tore me apart, like knives ripping open my heart.
Just seeing her in the hallways was enough
to make my eyes fill with painful tears
that I refused to let fall because I
didn't want to look weak.
She consumed my entire mind for months
and for weeks I was crying myself to sleep,
wondering what I did wrong that would cause this.
It took me a little less than seven months
to finally realize it wasn't my fault at all;
our friendship wasn't ruined because of me,
but because of her inability to accept people for who they are.
All because I like boys and girls,
she cut ties with me and