Sarah and I were best friends starting in Kindergarten. We hung out together all the time, laughing and talking and… just being best friends. In fifth grade, we stopped seeing each other as pals. We recognized each other as members of the opposite sex. Things got awkward, but we stayed close. Later on, in middle school, we sort of had a… falling out. I started hanging out with my guy friends more, so she abandoned me for her high-heeled, overly made-up, constantly giggling posse. I still called her, but the line was busy. Or she was with one of her “new” friends. I missed her, but just like a friend. Right? Maybe not. Time passed. We became freshmen, sophomores. It wasn’t until the fall of junior year, when she started going out with that guy, that I realized the truth. I loved Sarah. That guy was Matt James. Football player. You know the type. Mindless hunk of flesh that only knows how to breathe and tackle. I hated him. I hated him for being what I wanted to be. Not a jock. With Sarah. That is what I wanted most. The one thing I couldn’t have. Figures. But that’s not all I hated him for. I heard the rumors that went around about how he treated her. I saw her eyes, those sad, lonely eyes, and it killed me. A helpless junior girl, trapped. Where was I? Watching, doing nothing. What could I do? Stand up and be trampled by the football team? Go to her and be her outlet? I doubted she’d even remember my name. Tell someone? That wasn’t my place. She hadn’t even said anything to me.
She fell
He laughed
She cried
He snapped
I watched and died again
She ran
For cover
The stars
Above her
I couldn’t save her at all
So everybody lost
So I did what a spineless coward like me would be expected to do. Nothing. I told no one. I didn’t speak to Sarah, not ever. I avoided her so I didn’t have to see those tortured eyes. I smiled when I passed those jocks; just smiled like nothing was wrong. At home, I ran laps around my yard so I would have a deep, dreamless sleep. While I drifted off, I concentrated all my energy on not thinking about Sarah. Even with all my hard work, all my precautions against my pain and guilt, I thought about her all the time. Her pain became my pain. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. My heart was ripped in two. But worse than the pain was that day. Sarah and I came across each other in the hall. She pulled me into an empty classroom. “Brian,” she started. I saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. I couldn’t take this. I couldn’t do this. I had no choice. “Sarah, we’re not friends anymore. Remember? Just don’t talk to me.” I turned away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hesitate then leave the room.
The part
Of me
Was born
To be
Is not the part I am
I watched
Her go
I made
It so
I couldn’t take it back
So everybody lost
As seniors, we had almost all our classes together. She had found the strength and broken up with Matt. Nothing changed between us. It was torture. I hated myself for doing that to her, but I wouldn’t recognize that hate. I classified it as hate for her because she turned away from our friendship. I will always hate Sarah. I will always love Sarah.
Where do we go from here?
Stuck here with you
I hate you
You are a part of me
So everybody lost