Everyone has that friend.
You know, the one you owe everything to.
The one who opened their bed to you when your tears couldn’t be controlled;
The one who opened their heart to you in good times and in bad;
The one who saw you through your rough exterior;
The one who made you better every time you were around each other.
I have that one friend, and although I don’t tell her every single day, she is more than a friend.
She is family.
She is part of me.
She is my other half.
She saved me.
My first year away at school, was more or less difficult. I was in a world unlike the one I was familiar with. I was surrounded by name brands and a sea of similar personalities—instead of the familiarity of bargain hunting and vast differences.
After the first couple months, I thought I adjusted. I thought I had adjusted to this new way of life. This new environment. This new idea of what ‘happy’ was going to be for the next couple years…
Until I found myself with a knife to my arm and blood droplets appearing from my arm. The pain was emotionally numbing; it allowed me to forget because I was so engrossed in watching the little pools of blood build up on my arm.
Little by little, one cut wasn’t enough.
It was two.
Three.
…four.
And soon enough I found myself in the health center asking for more and more gauze pads/oversized bandaids, skipping swim practice because the chlorine burned, and wearing my sweaters even when it was beautiful outside.
The pain was beautiful.
It was this sweet song that kept my hand steady and heart slow.
It was this sweet song that lulled me back to her again and again.
It was this sweet song that morphed into whatever emotion it needed to be.
It was a dark beauty.
It released me from my identity crisis.
It released me from my character crisis.
It released me from the family drama.
It released me from the petty high school BS.
And then a friendship blossomed out of actual thin air.
We couldn’t have been more different.
The obvious way: white & black.
The not so obvious way: upbringing.
The semi-obvious-but-we-had-to-get-to-know-each-other-to-find-out way: our perspectives on life.
Alena’s friendship brought me to an entirely new level.
Together we learned to love ourselves.
We dealt with boy drama.
We cried.
We laughed.
We stayed up late watching movies.
We bonded unlike anyone I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Our simple, down the hall friendship became being part of an entirely amazing family (shout out to the Nicholsons).
Life is hard.
It has thrown quite a few curveballs, and I know there are going to be many more questionable trials that I have yet to face, but now I have the strength of a friend who has become more family than anything.
Everyone is fighting their own battle, never forget that.
Alena looked past my tough shell and instead found the quirky, fun, and creative individual that resembled her. She saved me from myself, and I have her to thank for so much more than just being a more than amazing friend.
