My best friend ran away from home a couple days ago, ran and didn’t tell anyone anything. We searched for hours, all of us, and then we found her- late, but we did. The problem is everyone knows, now, about that rope she’s been walking for the last two years. I used to be the only one who knew, you see, and so I could ignore it- but now I can’t look at her or think about her or talk to her without secondary shame creeping up my spine.
Because I knew all about the drinking and the reallyfuckingwrong boys and the pills. I should’ve seen this coming. I should’ve told her mum.
Sure, I did the expected thing; I tried to help. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve said “Promise this is the last time,” or the number of times she’s said “I promise.”
I even threatened to tell her mum about all those pills she took. She was scared, she got it, she promised and she meant it.
But she’d still do it all over again- it was just a matter of time. This is the worst though, worse than everything that lead to it.
What did you think was going to happen, love? Did you think nobody would care enough to notice? Did you think nobody would look? We did look, though, and now everything’s fucked to high heaven and either you fix it or it kills you.
But you’ve never been very good at picking the obvious option.
ETA: I went to her house today, and we talked for ages. She seems okay, I guess. Maybe this was a good thing. She talked to her parents, sorted herself out some. I hope this was a good thing. I want her to be okay.