“-so you have to think about it, Macki, think about what you want to do with your life. Think about who you want to be. This isn’t you. It can’t be. I refuse to believe this is some ‘new you.’ I know you’re in there… somewhere in that mass of flesh we call a mortal body. I only hope to reach you before you lose sight of yourself completely. Look… I know we’ve all changed, but I know you. You’re not a monster. You’re not cruel. How could you do such a thing?”

“I-,” I started.

“I’m not finished with you!” She yelled, cutting me off. “Wake up! What will it take to get the real, authentic, you back? Who even are you anymore? Who are you?” She sputtered, “Some soul-seller dealing with the devil? All for what? The great, wondrous priviledge of bullying others and a spot at the table of our great and powerful lords?” Her voice dripped with molasses-laced sarcasm. I didn’t know it was possible to hear someone roll their eyes.

It stung. It really did. I finally had felt confident. Someone who wasn’t whispered about and laughed at behind my back. I thought she would support me. But maybe I did lose sight of myself.

I stood there, speechless. What do you say to someone who bared their heart in anger to you? Someone who once loved you? This was not how my life was meant to turn out. She and I were going to stay besties until our hair turns gray and white. We were planning each other’s weddings and giving our future children matching names.

I am, I suppose, tired of all the obnoxious, high-pitched “hiiiiiii”’s and fake “OMG I love your outfit”’s. How could I have been stupid enough to give our relationship up for shallow future high school has-beens? More importantly, how do I fix this?

I took a deep breath.

“Please,” it was barely a whisper, a voice worn out from the silent tears that peppered my face. “I never wanted this. I don’t know what I was thinking… Can you ever forgive me? Can we be friends again?” It was a long shot and I knew it. I scanned her face, noticing ripples of uncertainty through the fog of hurt.

She wiped away a tear of her own quickly, as if she didn’t want me to see her cry.

“I don’t know.” It was a slim glimmer of hope; a bearly-alive olive branch; a peace offering.

“I will do everything I can to make it up to you. I swear. You have my word.” Clarity had dawned anew. Who was I trying to be?