The Saints Of Mibba
From Yesterday.
Best friend.
Oh, what images come to mind at my bittersweetest word. Best friends, telling scary stories to one another late at night; best friends, confessing their deepest secrets and swearing to never tell another soul; best friends, promising to stick by one another for life, promising to be a bridesmaid at their future marriage to a hot rockstar.
Best friend, turning their back on everything they were.
I was meant to begin a new chapter of my life with my best friend: high school. It was a respectable high school, complete with overly strict and overly uncomfortable uniforms. Having convinced my friend to go to the same school, I never realized how horrible everything within the next year would turn out.
We had our own little group, my primary school friends and I. The first few weeks worth of our lunchtimes were spent under the shade of the perfectly cared-for oak trees, trading tales of our various classes.
I should have seen it coming. Classes for year seven were separated alphabetically until enough academic information was gathered to separate us by grades. My best friend’s name started with an ‘m’; mine an ‘n’. We were separated, but only just.
We, inevitably, made new friends.
It was also around this time that I got a new horse: Della, a pretty chestnut mare. The previous year I had saved up money for my first horse Dante, but he proved to be unsuitable for competition. My parents saw how serious I was about horse riding – and bought me an amazing little horse.
I was thrilled at what was happening. A new horse, a new school… who better to talk to about it than my best friend?
I could see her making new friends. She began to tell me less, began to listen less… so I tried to stay by her side and make friends with her friends. Looking back, probably not the best idea. Surely if she liked them I’d get along with them too?
Wrong. Her new friends offered more than I did – funnier, prettier, more fashionable.
How cliché.
Slowly I began to feel rejection hit. I tried to make her see sense – but there was no going back.
Then the emails came. Out of nowhere. My best friend used words I thought I’d never see her use, calling me names I thought she’d never label me. ‘Slut’ and ‘ur so desprate’ were only a few of them. My head was spinning and my thoughts were reeling – surely, this couldn’t be my best friend?
Later, she tried to shift the blame to one of my other primary school friends, despite the fact that the email came directly from her house and her computer. Her IP address.
My parents saw the second, more horrific email before I did. My dad owned the server that my email at the time had been on. They refused to show me the email at first, instead taking it to the school, but after the entire ordeal blew over Mum finally showed it to me.
All of a sudden I had barely any friends. My now ex-bestie had turned half of our 70-person year against me, saying I had been the one to abuse and humiliate her.
Teachers were involved. It didn’t do a single thing. All it achieved was a forced apology on her part that wasn’t even said directly to my face. I received a written apology in the mail.
The words were sitting there, just as what they were. Words. Nothing else.
The taunts at school soon began. Cries of ‘horse-girl!’ and even ‘Why don’t you go have sex with your horse?’ were inevitable on a normal day of school, back in days before shouts of ‘Emo!’ were more common.
I eventually found friends. But not since the incident have I been able to trust a single human being like I trusted my best friend. It didn’t seem like a worthy cause, what with all the trouble that was caused in the end. Who said it wouldn’t happen again?
The result in the end? Me, an un-trusting and horrible friend. Never before have I been able to feel like I really deserve the good friends I have from school now. For a while I was convinced my best friend ditched me for a reason.
Thankfully, I matured with age and saw what a horrible person this girl had grown into. The girl I know today is not the girl I knew in primary school.
Not once have I shed a tear over what that girl caused me. Betrayal, for me, wasn’t a reason to be sad – it was an excuse to be angry. Even though today I remain unwilling to put faith in a single, real life friend like I did with her, I was taught that some things have to happen for the better. Maybe my bestie and I weren’t meant to be.
I haven’t spoken to that girl in four years.
Yet, never in year seven would I have imagined the impact a certain website would have on me in the future.
They say you should never trust someone over the internet.
Too late.
I already did. And still do.
Oh, what images come to mind at my bittersweetest word. Best friends, telling scary stories to one another late at night; best friends, confessing their deepest secrets and swearing to never tell another soul; best friends, promising to stick by one another for life, promising to be a bridesmaid at their future marriage to a hot rockstar.
Best friend, turning their back on everything they were.
I was meant to begin a new chapter of my life with my best friend: high school. It was a respectable high school, complete with overly strict and overly uncomfortable uniforms. Having convinced my friend to go to the same school, I never realized how horrible everything within the next year would turn out.
We had our own little group, my primary school friends and I. The first few weeks worth of our lunchtimes were spent under the shade of the perfectly cared-for oak trees, trading tales of our various classes.
I should have seen it coming. Classes for year seven were separated alphabetically until enough academic information was gathered to separate us by grades. My best friend’s name started with an ‘m’; mine an ‘n’. We were separated, but only just.
We, inevitably, made new friends.
It was also around this time that I got a new horse: Della, a pretty chestnut mare. The previous year I had saved up money for my first horse Dante, but he proved to be unsuitable for competition. My parents saw how serious I was about horse riding – and bought me an amazing little horse.
I was thrilled at what was happening. A new horse, a new school… who better to talk to about it than my best friend?
I could see her making new friends. She began to tell me less, began to listen less… so I tried to stay by her side and make friends with her friends. Looking back, probably not the best idea. Surely if she liked them I’d get along with them too?
Wrong. Her new friends offered more than I did – funnier, prettier, more fashionable.
How cliché.
Slowly I began to feel rejection hit. I tried to make her see sense – but there was no going back.
Then the emails came. Out of nowhere. My best friend used words I thought I’d never see her use, calling me names I thought she’d never label me. ‘Slut’ and ‘ur so desprate’ were only a few of them. My head was spinning and my thoughts were reeling – surely, this couldn’t be my best friend?
Later, she tried to shift the blame to one of my other primary school friends, despite the fact that the email came directly from her house and her computer. Her IP address.
My parents saw the second, more horrific email before I did. My dad owned the server that my email at the time had been on. They refused to show me the email at first, instead taking it to the school, but after the entire ordeal blew over Mum finally showed it to me.
All of a sudden I had barely any friends. My now ex-bestie had turned half of our 70-person year against me, saying I had been the one to abuse and humiliate her.
Teachers were involved. It didn’t do a single thing. All it achieved was a forced apology on her part that wasn’t even said directly to my face. I received a written apology in the mail.
The words were sitting there, just as what they were. Words. Nothing else.
The taunts at school soon began. Cries of ‘horse-girl!’ and even ‘Why don’t you go have sex with your horse?’ were inevitable on a normal day of school, back in days before shouts of ‘Emo!’ were more common.
I eventually found friends. But not since the incident have I been able to trust a single human being like I trusted my best friend. It didn’t seem like a worthy cause, what with all the trouble that was caused in the end. Who said it wouldn’t happen again?
The result in the end? Me, an un-trusting and horrible friend. Never before have I been able to feel like I really deserve the good friends I have from school now. For a while I was convinced my best friend ditched me for a reason.
Thankfully, I matured with age and saw what a horrible person this girl had grown into. The girl I know today is not the girl I knew in primary school.
Not once have I shed a tear over what that girl caused me. Betrayal, for me, wasn’t a reason to be sad – it was an excuse to be angry. Even though today I remain unwilling to put faith in a single, real life friend like I did with her, I was taught that some things have to happen for the better. Maybe my bestie and I weren’t meant to be.
I haven’t spoken to that girl in four years.
Yet, never in year seven would I have imagined the impact a certain website would have on me in the future.
They say you should never trust someone over the internet.
Too late.
I already did. And still do.
♠ ♠ ♠
by The Brightside.