• Last year, at the beginning of the school year, I was fortunate enough to have good teachers, good classes, and good friends.

    Although, out of all of the friends I had, there was one special friend that found a place in my heart, and there he stayed. He was a good friend of mine. We had three classes together, and every morning, before first period when all of the students were at their lockers before hand, I would go and talk to this friend, often asking questions about homework, or some completely unrelated subject, whatever came to mind.

    The weeks progressed, and we became good friends, talking and laughing in the hallways, sharing news and jokes. Then came the first dance of the school year. It was a rather stupid dance, but I thought to myself beforehand, who knows? I may actually have fun with my friends.

    The night of the dance came, and I arrived there, my friends waiting outside of the gymnasium, which had transformed to be the dance floor for the night. Upon entering the doors and handing the teacher my ticket and ID, they caught my eye. I stepped past the table with the teacher, and smiled, throwing my head back and laughing at my own folly.

    We went as one group to the dance floor, going to the far side where my group always resides during the dances. The DJ played our favorite songs, and several that were most definitly not our favorite. The Barbie Song being one of the ones we hated the most.

    At the dance, my friend was there. We talked and laughed just like we had earlier that day, but something was different this time, more pronounced. As he danced, or rather, attempted to, his dark brown hair swerved over his eyes and he laughed, his chocolate-colored brown eyes searching my own blue ones.

    My breath caught, and I smiled as I saw that look in his eyes that made my heart melt like butter out in the sun. He looked away, his attention divided by the fact that one of our other friends had gone over to him to ask him a question, presumably about the math homework, or something equally useless.

    The look in his eyes continued all the rest of that school year, even after I had broken his heart and made him cry. The question that arose was "why the hell did you break up with him?" When asked this question, I merely looked down, and wanted to start crying, because I couldn't answer that question.

    Sure, I knew the answer, in so many ways, but there was no way I would tell anybody, not even my friend, the one whose heart I had broken. I could not have told even him, my dear friend, why I had broken his heart, and, in turn, my own.

    School ended. We were parted for the summer, still texting and calling the other on our cell phones, just to keep in touch. But everything changed on that fateful day, the first day of the new school year. My once good friend would not even meet my eyes, for fear of perhaps triggering a memory relapse about why he had liked me in the first place.

    A few weeks after school had started, I decided to text him, saying Hey! I haven't talked to you in ages. How's the new school year?, or something along the lines of that. The reply was so instant, and so harsh, that I thought my heart would have broken in two. Stop texting me *insert name here*, I have a girlfriend now.

    I read the message and it played over and over in my head that night as I tried to sleep, crying into my pillow about the sadness and torture of life. I cried and cried and cried, and yet I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, or in my heart, it was telling me that it was possible that him and I could never be friends again.

    More time passed. Weeks, then months. He still refused to meet my eyes, and didn't speak to me. Every time he passed my locker after his fifth period class, he would mutter awkward awkward awkward awkward. My other friend, also one of my former friends friends (he was the friend of my former friend, but also my friend), had told me that he muttered this every time he passed by my locker, even when I wasn't at it.

    Then few times I saw him with his girlfriend, I felt the familiar pang of loneliness, and regret. I could never face him again, or so I thought. The first dance of the new school year came and went, with him not meeting my eyes at all, not even a quick glance.

    And because of that dance, I had learned that my once good friend now hated me. I didn't dare ask him myself. I had to let nature take its course. A few weeks after the first dance was the third early release day. Because of the early release, I was not eating with the friends I usually ate lunch with.

    Instead, I ate with three girls in my band class that were a year younger than me. On my right, across the table, was him. Sitting next to his girlfriend, with a boy in my theatre class on the girl's other side. I ended up eating lunch with him, and he didn't meet my eyes once.

    By now, I was thinking kind of angry thoughts at this boy. You... you coward. You don't have the courage to be my friend, to look me and the eyes and still be my friend, unlike a few others before you. I had still cried over this boy, this friend of mine that was a friend no longer.

    I almost felt as if I had cried over this boy too much, but yet I knew it wasn't true.