Chapter 2
All summer long I had been by myself and this new guy. But I was never completely comfortable; I knew that I needed peace and security. I would call my best friend everyday just to talk, she was the greatest. I don't know, I always seemed to have fun when I was with her. I even found myself texting her all day long while she was at work and while I was at practice. I just felt okay when I talked to her. Sometimes it seemed as though things were going well, that things were not as bad as I thought they were. As time went by she slowly started to recognize what was going on with me yet she did not say anything to me. She had just allowed things to take there course. Field Hockey started and I had made varsity again, to my surprise, and that was when some people really started to notice what was wrong.
I did not want to tell anything and let anyone find out what I was doing and even catch on to anything that was wrong. I seemed to be hiding it all so very well, but little did I know that my best friend knew about everything, or at least had suspicions. School started and I decided I was just going to focus on school and my sports.
School had started off pretty well until a few weeks later. My best friend wanted to really get a good look inside of me. Her and her little conniving ways made a deal with me that forced me to give her my journal. That was my life. It had all my thoughts and all my ideas. The night before I gave it to her I was freaking out. What was she going to think about all the pain and torture I was putting myself through after Evan's death. I was so scared. I woke up and completely felt sick. I just wanted to die. I was so not prepared for this. Yet, I had to give it to her. Part of me really wanted to give it to her, to get it out and off my shoulders.
That night I was afraid she would never talk to me. I wanted to call her yet I knew she would not answer the phone. But to my surprise she actually did call, but she sounded as though she was crying. I knew why too, my journal had every word, feeling, and thought that I had ever felt. It had the lists of all the reasons why I should just go die. It was probably the worst thing I could have ever given to her to read. I wished I had given her one of my journals full of poems, but I hadn't.
The next few days were very weird, and tense. I could tell that she was looking me up and down for any signs of pain or the many other things I took place in. Yet, it seemed as though she could not. I looked perfectly fine, a tad bit thing, but I looked fine. She knew it was all inside though. We talked a lot about that year, the reasons why it happened and why I let it happen. I think that was the first heart to heart conversation that I had ever had with someone that even seemed to care.
And I really enjoyed talking to her. She cared, she was curious, she was kind, and she was the kind of person that I had always wanted as my best friend.
