My Best Friend

Hi Julia, I completely agree with your analysis and I would like to add some comments. Sacks mentions in this chapter that there are additionally social types of rhythm deafness. As Erin Hannon and Sandra Trehub have reported, newborn children at six months can promptly recognize every rhythmic variety, yet by twelve months their range has limited, yet honed. They can now more effectively distinguish the sorts of rhythms to which they have already been exposed; they learn and internalize an arrangement of rhythms for their culture. Similarly, grown-ups think that it is harder still to see “foreign” rhythmic

People change. Three years with the same 60 kids has taught me this. But people change all the time. Instead of saying people change, I should say people drift apart. Sometimes what previously held you and your circle of friends together disintegrates slowly. Conversation dies and interaction is avoided. As a person who experienced this firsthand, I'm unsure how I should feel about this. Back in 5th grade, I was really close to one of my fellow classmates. For the sake of, well, our dead friendship, let’s call her Anna. It was a circle of 5 in fifth grade. We experienced silly stapler wars together and ranted about our ever changing substitute teachers together. Anna and I remained close in 6th grade. Our circle of friends stayed intact although a few of us were in another class. We shared secrets, gossiped about certain people we disliked and fangirled over celebrities. Then, like in every friendship, a fight broke out, not just between Anna and I, but among our whole friendship circle. Suddenly, everyone has a problem with someone else. The five of us found new people to hang out with. Some of us stayed in pairs but Anna had joined a new circle of friends that did not include the former 5 person friendship group we were in. With only 60 people in your grade, conflicts are resolved easily as you most likely see that person you dislike many times a day. This held true for Anna, 3 other girls and myself. We may have split up, but we regrouped quickly.

This girl and I actually became best friends, however, for only a year. I finally moved on with my life and forgot about her. I found “the love of my life.” We dated for a year and a half. Afterward, the same girl who I thought was my best friend took him away from me. I was at the lowest point in my life. I did not want to go to school because I had classes with her. I felt like it was the end if the world. So instead of feeling depressed I started to hang out with my other friends. But, all they did was get in trouble and I did not want to be apart of

I remember it like it was yesterday. Standing in front of the camera with a dirty white rag around my neck. Wearing the all-orange jumpsuit and the uncomfortable orange slippers. "Stand up straight and look forward." The only thing that was going through my head while the officer was instructing me as he took my mug shots was how everybody was going to know. "Now, turn to your right." Not only was I embarrassed but I was scared and I had this mega hatred towards my best friend.

The friends I made in the new school were better than my old friends. They were nicer but still in that popular crowd that didn’t like people who were different than them. While this is probably an awful thing to say, I became a master manipulator, I could show a “I’m just like you guys,” side to my popular friends but then away from them on the school bus I was able to bond with the “weird kids” who rode my bus. I had so much in common with these friends that I was really sad because I couldn’t be friends with them. Are you kidding me?? If I became full-fledged friends with them in public I would be crucified. I would be picked on just like they were I couldn’t let that happen. So I kept these fun friendships a secret and suffered in silence knowing I was just as bad as these popular friends I

A best friend can mean different types of things to an individual. To me, they are your closest and most special friend you know. You do practically everything with them. Some think you can only have one best friend and some think you can have more than one like me; I have two, Anil and Rose. I’ve known Anil since the sixth grade, but he didn’t become my best friend until the ninth grade. We ironically disliked each other in middle school because his group thought I was annoying vice versa, so we never got to talk much then. In highschool, I didn’t know that many people, but Anil and I had art together and so we bonded there. After that, we became best friends. I’ve known Rose since the ninth grade. We met through Anil's friend Jordan and we all sat in a group together. We talked a little bit in the ninth grade, but didn’t know much about each other. A couple of months in we started to bond over the fact we were both in the same school band. Our friendship really started to grow after some of her closest friends betrayed her and left. We were in the same band for all four years of high school and all the trips we did brought us closer and closer eventually becoming best friends. Being best friends with the opposite sex is different from being friends with the same sex like doing activities, having an emotional connection, and even their personality.

I think the biggest decision I’ve ever made was to separate myself from a toxic friend group. Middle School has many people who don’t know what else they want from life except making others feel bad. Let me tell my story. I involved myself with an old friend thinking the friendship will blossom into something beautiful, and it did. We went to each others houses and bake cakes, had sleepovers, stayed up until 4 AM watching movies, and made so many inside jokes that I still laugh to to this day. Unfortunately, School was almost about to start and when school started, we still hung out and talked but not like we did during summer. Other people starting to come into the friendship I had made with her, our friend circle expanded. Those people seem nice and caring but they were good friends to an extent. One day that old friends stop talking to me. I cried about it because I cared for her, she was there for me and I was there for her whenever no one else was, I expected the same care back from her but I expected too much apparently. I learned that she was talking behind my back, she would spread lies about me and turned everyone against me, even a childhood friend. My world flipped upside down. I remained quiet half of the school year and was blamed for things I didn’t say, I was hated for being the victim and later on being accused of thinking I make myself the victim when I did nothing but love this girl. I was called a snake and a liar and many other names I choose not to say,

On a hot summer day I with my mom in her tan Buick Lucerne outside of Wendy’s watching hundreds of cars pass by on the road waiting for my best friend and her mom to arrive and retrieve me. I would step outside at times, smell the fresh air mixed with a mouthwatering scent of fast food, then beg for the next grey car I see to be them. The moment they had arrived, I was too lost in my own thoughts to notice. I had gotten sidetracked thinking that I looked horrible because I curled my hair to a type of wavy that I did not truly like, but the moment my mom said that they were here those thoughts stayed in the car while I ripped open the door and ran to my lifelong friend. I ran as fast as my legs could carry and tacked her in a bone crushing hug that landed us on the soft light green grass. I noticed her hair had grown to a length that reached just below her shoulders, her skin had gone from a light skin to a glowing tan, and her body looks overall toned from the hours of track she has been accomplishing. After the hour of everyone catching up, it was time to take our leave. I couldn’t wait to arrive and officially be treated as family. It is easy to experience being a part of a friend’s family when you are so close that you are treated as if you are blood.

In the winter of 8th grade, I began to disconnect from my friends, mainly my ‘best friend’. I didn’t have as much fondness of her as I would’ve had a few years ago. I didn’t laugh with her as much, and we didn’t hang out as often or even feel the need to. It was as if I didn’t want to be with her.

I have this friend of mine that has turned into my sister and she is amazing. So this friend, her name is Hannah Byce and we met in seventh grade and I know it's cliche, but we just clicked we got along and had so much in common. Here we are in tenth grade and still going strong, but we've definitely had some bumps along the way but they've only made us stronger. When we started getting closer we began doing everything together and we still do. We both moved each other into our new houses. We have been on nine trips together, experienced about two big fights and got through them. Through the years we've changed friend groups three times, but we two have stuck together through transitions to each group. We had a bad few months last year, so we took a break for a month, but it was for the better and looking back on it we were both just being dumb and childish about the situation.

Looking around my year I decided that once again I would muster up the courage to make a new friend, one as strong as the one seven years had cemented. Despite my anxiety, I became friends with one of the girls I had always admired during my earlier years and we seemed to match so well. As we became closer, the highlight of my day became seeing her, I would follow her around, sneak out of my house to meet up with her and the more I stayed around her the more worried she and I would become when we were separated. Thinking back, I understand that although she appeared kid and generous, she would only act that way around me. With our other friends she acted cold and callous.

As the first tear rolled down my cheek in that hospital bed I kept on repeating that one sentence over and over again. “You are my best friend”. Before that point in time, I was completely lost. I had no sense of friendship and believed this would continue on. Realizing that the text sent to my phone earlier that day was true I felt a happiness I haven’t felt before. I continuously wrote down what she had sent me into my notebook. “You are my best friend”. So many thoughts rushed in and out of my head as that sentence rang truer and truer in my head.

To speak two different languages is such a impressive trait to have. One of my best friends is bilingual and she amazes me. Her name is Evelyn and I met her four years ago. I was eleven when we first met and she was ten. She lives in Montevideo, Uruguay. I made the long and dreadful trip back there when I was thirteen. It was like a gigantic family reunion. I went back again just a month ago, this time being fifteen years old. In an peculiar way, it feels like we have grown up together. Getting to visit her, her inspiring family, and prodigious church has been one of the most encouraging things in my life.

It was moving day. They day I knew was coming, but never looked forward to. There were many reasons why I didn’t want this day to come. One of those reasons was I was going to have to leave my best friend, Ryan. He is this tall and really tan guy. He has really long brown wavy hair that I always envied, extremely light blue eyes that nobody has ever seen before, skin as clear as a window, I am pretty sure he has never had any skin problem in his life. He is someone that everybody liked and envied. Ryan has always been my best friend, we met at birth. Ok, so we didn’t technically meet at birth. Our moms were really good friends, and the timing was weirdly close. I was born on June 18th 2002 at around 11:30 PM. Ryan was born on June 19th 2002 at around 2:00 AM. But as I said, we didn’t meet inside the hospital when he was born. A couple weeks later, both of our moms decided to have a little playdate between the two of us. Ever since that day we would go over to their house almost every day and just live life with each other. But now, all of the memories are down the drain. I walked outside and called Ryan to tell him that it was moving day and ask if he wanted to come over one more time. Well, I tried to. I dialed him up and all I could hear was the dissatisfying triple ring for about 20 seconds. It went to his voicemail. “Hey this is Ryan, I am currently not at the phone right now. Please leave a message.” So I left a message, “Hey Ryan, its Joe. I called to tell you that

Time really doesn’t heal; it just blurs things. It will never pull a cover over my best friends face or hide the fact that I hurt him in the worst way. Joseph was a quirky guy with thick, brown, curly hair who wore glasses that were too big for his face. His pants didn't fit him right, he always tucked in his shirts, and he smelled like fresh laundry.