June 2, 2011

Hello there?

Friend is defined as a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. At least that's how dictionary.com defines it. 
But to me a friend is so much more than 10 words. 


To me a friend is someone who....
Wants to be with me, whenever, wherever. 
Has advice, even if they know I won't take it. 
Stops me when I look stupid. 
Tries to teach me how to be mean. 
Lets me take the virgin sip. 
Hates people I hate. 
Makes up incredibly over thought out secret nick names with me.
Won't let me sit closer to the TV just because it's their house. 
Texts me when my favorite movie's on TV, so we can watch it together. 


My friends, the real ones who I may have known for 8 years or 3, are the ones that mean it when they say 'I love you' and when they say 'Luv ya' r even 'ILY.'


They're the reasons I'm going to miss middle school, there's only two of them. 
Bernie and Issy, they're so different. Except for their mutual hatred towards each other. Most of my friends hate each other, I think I'm just to awesome to share. Just a theory. 


And they will try to see me over the next 4 years, they'll try to stay in touch, and they didn't even write that they would in my yearbook. 
Because I figure time is the biggest compliment someone can give you. If they listen through your story of standing behind a man with 14 cans of Campbell's soup at the store. And watch your favorite TV shows, and text back sole syllables but don't want the conversation to end. 


I cried the other night. It was more of a surprise than you would think because I didn't think my tear ducts worked, but alas..I'm a mere mortal, even if I am one of the better, higher ones. I cried into my mommy's shoulder and I got really scared. 


I remember the night before middle school, my mom caught me crying and I begged her, I mean begged her, to not make me go. It seemed like the middle of the night, it was probably 9, and I had this big black bag because I though colors were against the rules and I had practiced for days on how to open a pad lock. 


I'm not going to beg her to not make me go to high school, because I realize it's the next natural step, and I have been working very hard to enforce this personal rule about not caring about things I can't change. 


I can't change the fact that in late August I'm going to experience my first first day of school without Issy. And there's nothing I can do about Bernie not sitting behind me in whatever first class I have next year. 


Maybe this won't make sense but Thursday was the last day of the year we had homeroom. Bernie had to leave to work on her finals dance for choir and I sat there, alone, for an hour. I watched Ariel dance to no music and people take pictures and one girl even asked me if I felt okay. I did, I just didn't have anyone to talk to, to seem normal with, to be abnormal with. 


And my biggest fear is that next year every day is going to be like that last homeroom. 


I suppose that's something I can change though. 


That was sad for me. I didn't cry, but then again I'm not usually one to point out the lasts of everything. So I think in a way it was a big deal. 


The awards were Friday, and there was some heavy crying there. I got the awards for orchestra, straight As, straight As for 3 years, GPA higher than 3.5, science and citizenship. Not a bad deal. I didn't win the American Legion, but I'm white, skinny, and middle class. So no big shocker. 


Finals week starts Tuesday, so one more full day of middle school. Resistance is futile? 


Does your mom wear Crocs?


Before I go I want to let you in on a little idea I had. From tomorrow to Thursday I will post four final tips on how to survive, or more accurately come out alive, from middle school. 


Should I start tonight? Don't believe a word someone in an older grade says to you. Today I told my little sister Paul Revere was Johnny Appleseed's best friend, they went to Julliard together. 


Should you believe that tip? You wouldn't believe me if I told you to anyway.