Falling Straight Down
Marisol
Marisol was my best friend.
It was as simple as that. When she came up in conversation with family members, or strangers at the bus stop the only way I described her was as my best friend. I never told them about her beautiful brown eyes, or how they always sparkled when she laughed. I never told them about her full red lips, or how they formed the perfect smile around pristine white teeth. I didn't tell them about her dark hair, or her beautiful voice. I simply told them she was my best friend.
Maybe it was because I hate to complicate things, I hate to add too much information or detail.
Simple is better. It leaves everything smooth and problem free.
Or maybe it was because that isn't the way you describe your best friend.
And maybe, just maybe, that was why I preferred to keep those definitions of her to myself, because like I said, simple is better.. too much detail can cause a lot of harm.
It was as simple as that. When she came up in conversation with family members, or strangers at the bus stop the only way I described her was as my best friend. I never told them about her beautiful brown eyes, or how they always sparkled when she laughed. I never told them about her full red lips, or how they formed the perfect smile around pristine white teeth. I didn't tell them about her dark hair, or her beautiful voice. I simply told them she was my best friend.
Maybe it was because I hate to complicate things, I hate to add too much information or detail.
Simple is better. It leaves everything smooth and problem free.
Or maybe it was because that isn't the way you describe your best friend.
And maybe, just maybe, that was why I preferred to keep those definitions of her to myself, because like I said, simple is better.. too much detail can cause a lot of harm.