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Out of all my friendships, I have become very close to one of my friends. A lot of people say there is no such thing as a best friend, but they say that pretty much just so they don't hurt other peoples' feelings. There are two types of friends, maybe even three if you include those people of whom you call a friend but really aren't. There is a "friend" friend who you can hang out around and you enjoy their presence and they enjoy yours usually. Then there is a "true" friend, which is hard to come by. You can talk to them about anything, and you will always be there for them and they will always be there for you. Everyone may try to be a true friend to you, or they may not, but not everyone can be a true friend to you. Only true friends can really be best friends, in my opinion. A lot of people don't know who their true friends are, or what to look for in a true friend. I know I found one of my true friends, and I am glad I did.
Ceara and I have been friends ever since the fifth grade, when we first met. We were in the same class, and we liked a lot of the same things and people. We were like the kind of people that melded together, we called out to be friends. We had a sense of belonging together. Some people tried breaking up our friendship, but even then, I believe, we were closely bonded as friends. Ceara and I had and still have a lot in common. We go through most of our "life's lessons" around the same time (sometimes at the same time) and we would help each other through it that best we could. It was kind of strange, but it helped us a great deal. We were both pretty smart for our age, and qualified for advanced math in fifth and sixth grade. In fifth grade our teacher set up something where in each unit you could take a test about it before we started the unit and if you passed it you got to go to the library and do projects instead of learning the unit again. Ceara and I would take the test if we wanted to get out of the unit, and if we tried on the test we would always pass it. Ceara didn't really like the pressure of the advanced math class, and dropped out of it. She was put into the average class. It made her happy that she could maintain an "A+" without the pressure. I knew she was too smart for the average class, but since she seemed to like it better I didn't bug her too much about it. I was very honest with her in saying that she belonged in the advanced math class. Sixth grade came along and they put her back into the advanced math class along with me. We passed notes all through the class, and tried to pair up for the joint assignments if we could. In seventh grade, we were both put into the blocked advanced classes. We were thrilled to have classes together. Mr. Seole was for social studies, Mrs McFarland was for English, and Mrs. Cennos was for science. My teacher from sixth grade admitted that she screwed up my recommendation for math so I wasn't in the advanced math class with Mr. Gerber. Ceara was in that class though and was upset because she said I was better than her at math, and I wasn't in there. I laughed it off, and stayed bored in the average class. A lot of stuff happened after the first quarter of that school year. I am not totally sure what all happened to Ceara, but she got into a lot of stuff. I knew enough to be worried about her. Things started getting hard on her, and she seemed like she was under an extreme amount of pressure and stress. Ceara hung out around the druggies. I wasn't sure if she was actually doing them, but I knew I would still be there for her if she was. We never really talked about it, and I don't think either one of us would have wanted to at the time. One day Ceara and I were goofing around, as usual, talking about all sorts of things. She said she needed to talk to me, alone. I'll never forget what that conversation was about. It was like a turning point for both of us. We were both under pressure from our classes, we just dealt with it differently. As most teens do, we both got a little depressed, but with her it wasn't temporary. She and I talked about nothing for a while, until she finally spoke up. She asked if she could tell me anything, and as her best friend I told her of course she could. We were both close... and I mean REAL close. She said lately she had been thinking of things. She said that sometimes she just felt like dying and ending it all. She told me she knew she could never go through with it, but it was scaring her. She thought of it more and more often, and she never told anyone about it. From that day on, I hung out with Ceara a lot more than usual. We got together almost every weekend to spend the night and do things. Most of the time it was just her friend, Angela; Ceara; her sister, Chloe; and I over there. We would always do weird things like put each other in trances, and throw unpopped popcorn into the fire and watch it pop and burn. We always had fun, though. At school I started hanging out around Ceara, instead of going to and from groups like I used to. I had been becoming somewhat popular because of the all groups who knew me. I did my best to be there when Ceara needed me though, since I was, after all, closer to her. As a result I lost my popularity, I didn't care that much about losing it, though. Ceara eventually started skipping school. The first couple of days I assumed she was sick, but when the third day in a row came along I called her after school. Ceara said she was sick and she'd be at school whenever she got better. However if I told her I really wanted her to try to go to school the next day she would be there. At first all of our friends were worried, like I was. Some of them called Ceara to see if she was all right. After a while Ceara told them the truth about how she was skipping, and she told another one of my friends, Cheryl, that she didn't want me to be mad at her for doing it. I knew what she was doing because it was obvious, but I never told her I knew. Of the days she was there I would be with her, and we still got together on weekends if she wanted me to. I let her know that I cared about her, and I was there for her if she needed me. I knew deep down inside things were getting worse. My other friends got mad at me. They all thought I was crazy for spending time with Ceara. They all said pretty much the same thing: that Ceara was stupid and didn't deserve my attention. I told all of them that she was my friend and she needed me to be there, so I was there for her. No one understood me, really, but it filtered out all of my false friends. A lot of people said that I was crazy and then forgot about my existence. The friends that stuck with me (even though they didn't stand by Ceara) are still with me today, as my friends. I slowly got Ceara to come back to school for at least two days a week. Then they switched her to the average classes, and she came to school more often. One day at lunch I accidentally found out Ceara was doing minor drugs. She admitted it when I asked her about it, but she didn't want me to be mad she said. I wasn't, I just told her to try to quit. Ceara made sure none of the druggies pushed me into doing drugs. Eventually she quit. She still felt bad though, her suffering went on inside of her. She told me that it felt like she was nearing the edge. She thought about suicide more and more often. I came right out and told her that I needed her to live, and other people did, too. I wasn't sure if she believed me, but I told the truth. I was constantly worried for her at that point. We were only 11 years old. I was learning things most people don't learn until they are adults. I learned that sometimes you think you have friends but they really would never be there for you. I realized you could care for a friend a lot more than I imagined. I learned sometimes things can just blow up in your face, and all you can do is take it one day at a time to get it better. I realized that sometimes just having one person there for you can help a lot. One of the hardest things I learned was that sometimes, no matter how much you want to do something for someone to help, you can't do anything but be there for them. Sometimes all you can do is say "I care". Ceara eventually stopped thinking about killing herself near the end of the school year. Her dad was getting remarried though, and she would have to move. I joked around with the saying "distance makes the heart grow fonder". Ceara and I have been writing each other ever since and things seemed to be back to normal for the most part. We confessed a lot to each other in our letters. We draw all over the margins of the page, with jokes or just pictures, sometimes even little messages. Recently she wrote me saying things weren't going too well. She said she hated living there, and was thinking about suicide again. She informed me that she had tried to run away, but her dad found her nearly frozen and hungry. I told her in my letter back that both Angela and I cared for her. I knew Angela felt that way because we had talked for a while at school just about Ceara, and how much we missed her. I said she could write me and tell me anything, or she could call. I am sure she can get through this again, living. We are still really close, even if we live miles away. After all, "distance makes the heart grow fonder".
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