Best Friends

Today,

We are going to discuss a very sensitive topic for me and a very significant title in my life: best friend. 

When someone calls me their best friend, I think it can mean something different than what I think it means. Or rather have more meaning to me than it them. If I have called you my best friend, you have touched my deep heart strings and I’ve given you ammunition to hurt me. 

I’d like to introduce to you the girl who mainly changed this word for me, Georgia.

I remember our day wandering around the playground at school. Sweatshirts and Nike shorts. And flip flops. To be a part of her world was the world to me.

Georgia had dark blonde hair with sage green eyes that sometimes were blue. She would take a shower every morning and blow dry her hair, what a routine. Her hair was so pretty. And she was so pretty. Her face was different, in a good way. She would put on the same ole eyeliner and mascara. Nivea lip balm. She didn’t really seem to have much care about other people; she was very much so independent and didn’t need me like I needed her. She was one of those people who I just wanted to be friends with. 

We laughed. We spent every weekend together. We would alternate every day who texted first in the morning. And I could always count on that text from her. And she could always trust me. 

I always remember her birthday every year. And I usually tell her I love her because I do. And will always.

I remember how personalized my Christmas gifts were from her. I think that is why now I am so good at gift-giving. I love The Little Mermaid, she got me an Ariel piggy bank. I love the Eiffel Tower and Paris, she got me an Eiffel Tower painting. She introduced me to Flaming Hot Cheetos; we would eat them together. She introduced me to The Vampire Diaries, one of my now and then beloved shows. She encouraged me to watch more scary movies. Paranormal Activity, Insidious. I remember us eating at one of the old Los Portales by Jason Deli and then walking (I know, dumb!) to Hollywood Cinema to watch Insidious.

We would Skype. We shared everything. 

I remember the day I lost her. And I don’t think that I’ve ever truly forgiven myself for this, but I need to. I got so mad at her and a few other friends of mine that I felt like I was coming out of my body. I’ve never truly been that mad again; it scared me. And it scared her. Our friendship was never the same. And that night I got so angry, I knew I had lost her.

One of our other friends borderline bullied me in school. Georgia was never a bully. But her not trusting you was just as worse as that. And once her trust was broken, there was no getting it back.  And I broke her trust. And I’ll never have her back. And it's my fault. That is the hardest part. I remember having a confrontation with her outside of the art room, which was my sanctuary back then. The confrontation was over my boyfriend at the time. The bully’s name is Sophie. Sophie and my guy used to talk and now I was dating him. Joe, my boyfriend, one thing he did right other try to control me was teaching me I needed to have a backbone with other people. Other than that, he tried to control what I wore, how I wore my hair, and he took up a lot of my time. I wanted to be in The Strawberry Festival. And Joe’s family was really involved in that. After we broke up, I was bound and determined to be in that festival. And I was!

Sophie said in the middle of the art room, “Where is she going to sit? She has no friends.” And Georgia was sitting by her. 

I remember wanting to transfer high schools over Christmas break. I did not want to go back to school. But I did. The more years that went on, the more friends I lost. The anxiety of where I would sit at lunch. The smallest of things were reassurance to me. It truly is sad when I think about it. And I see how that has carried on into my adult life. 

I was not popular at school. The only place I was popular was at dance. All of the little kids looked up to me. I was a safe place to them. That still warms my heart. One of my safe places is a ballet studio. I think I am a safe place for a lot of people. With my personality and being an empath, people feel like they can talk to me, like they can open up to me. But who will listen to Anna? And how can I separate my feelings and theirs? Who is going to try and want to take on the challenge of loving me and truly getting to know me? Did someone say a blooming onion from Outback?

I’m often times there for everyone, the first to help, the first to sign up, the one with the full plate. Who is going to take care of Anna? Who can I open up to? Who’s going to be there when all the demons surface? Who’s going to be there to hold your hair back when you puke? Or talk you through an anxiety attack? Or come get you out of bed during a depressive episode? Who will notice? Who will take the time to stalk my Facebook, add me on the social media platforms, keep up with my blogs, actually read them, notice when I go silent, notice the manic panic, remember my birthday, and make it important, just make it count? Just make it count, period. Those are the people we need to focus on. People who truly care and people who won’t leave. Even if you disrespect them. Invest enough and love enough to ask why. One cannot say they love you one second and drop you the next. I’ve been that person. And I’ve been the person it has been done to. That is a sign of an unstable person. We need to find people who try to understand the insecurities. And why they’re there. Who actually give a damn.

Georgia is a lot of why “best friends” means a lot to me. But I’ve been let down by a lot of other friends too. And I’ve been used a hell of a lot. I don’t trust hardly anyone completely.

Her favorite colors were green and pink. I remember her custom pair of Nike running shoes for track and cross country. I remember being a part of her life. I got a sweatshirt just to support her and it is still one of my favorite sweatshirts. The vinyl has almost completely come off. That makes me want to go get it and cuddle up with it. 

Having a hard like mine and an ability to feel other people comes with a price. It’s a beautiful ability and I wouldn’t be Anna without it, but I endure a lot of pain. And I hide well. As one friend who broke my trust and left me last used to tell me, “You’re a broken person.” Yep. But I can help other people. “You’re very insecure, but that’s not how you present.” I know. That same bully, Sophie, told me, “I wish I could not care what people think like you do.” Truth is, I fake it. I very much so care what people think. It’s very hard for me to be myself. It is a battle and has been. And will be. I care about being left on read. I care about not getting a text back. Friends texting me makes me day. The person I’m talking to texting me first makes me feel better. I care about people talking to me. I care about most things. It’s so frustrating! I run myself ragged trying to be at everything so people do not forget me. It is so messed up and it does not match my persona. I guess I’m a better actress than I claim to be.

Everyone has issues. But for some reason, here you are reading mine. And I appreciate you showing up for me. Because whether or not you care, you love, you’re being nosy, or you’re just flat-out making fun of me, you’re still here. And you’re still helping me succeed. Without you, I wouldn’t have thousands of views on my blog already this year, two months in. Without you, I wouldn’t have the courage to do all this. I’ve gotten mad and upset and questioned, “Why do I even do this? Who even cares?” But I was having a pity party. My really good friend said, “I care.” And believe it or not, I actually do have a following! 😊 Thank YOU!

You will always have haters if you’re doing something right. What does the song say, “Rain rain go away, that’s what all my haters say...”

Xoxo,

Anner