Narrative Essay About My Best Friend

I was exiting the school on a cold and cloudy afternoon. It was three days until Christmas break, a break that I felt was a little overdue. There wasn’t much snow on the ground, I knew it was going to be a green Christmas. Once I breathed in the cold and miserable air I began walking to my friends who were waiting for me outside. In my head I was thinking about the girl I liked at the time. At this point a lot of people knew I liked her, most were surprised but whatever, that's not the point. One of my friends who I told was, well, let’s just call him “Fooney” for the time being. My friend Fooney was into history as I was back in the sixth grade. Fooney was nice, but deep down I never trusted him and I would soon why I shouldn’t trust him ever again.

What they didn’t know was that in three years of friendship, she hadn’t invited me over once. I was always the one to do the inviting, the planning. Anna had a best friend before me, but after almost 7 years of friendship, Anna was “dumped.” I guess inside I was always wondering if Anna really liked me, or if I was just a simple replacement. By seventh grade, things with Anna were very rocky. I had heard from mutual friends that she had been talking about me behind my back. After a while, it seemed the only nice words spoken were when we were face to face. She was too domineering. She always made me feel stupid. In her mind, she was better and I was worse and that was that. One evening at the beginning of our eighth grade year, the tremor hit. Anna spent the night and the whole evening we watched T.V. or read. We didn’t talk once. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Anna,” I said, “This is so stupid. We don’t talk, we hardly ever do things together anymore, this friendship has been worn out for a long time.” “I’m sorry you feel that way,” was her only reply. Five minutes later, Anna had left my home and my life. My whole world seems to be more on track now that she’s

My cousin, Deja Hiserote, is my best friend; she lives down the road from me in Red Scaffold, which is in the middle of nowhere. The town where I go to school and where all my other friends, Dupree, is nearly fifty miles from my house. To get to Red Scaffold, you have to go down south of Dupree on Cherry Creek Road; about halfway to Red Scaffold the road begins to curve first one way and then the other and you have to be very careful because it is a gravel road and you might find yourself in the ditch. Last November when it cold and there was nothing to do, Deja and I decided to go for a drive. We decided to go to Dupree because we intended to hang out with more of our friends.

Standing atop the ledge of the Golden Gate Bridge is so intimidating. I've stood in this spot countless times, however, I've always wussed out of actually doing the unthinkable. With no one to help this uninteresting high schooler out, this girl doesn’t even have a single friend in this new place. Because all of my technology has been broken in someway, I've not had a chance to talk to my old friends, but it's not like I had numerous friends in my old place. Nevertheless, the one friend I thought I had was Corrine, but she moved on and found other friends after I moved away. So much for best friends forever.

Jade, Samantha, Mason, and I were walking down Creep Street thinking of a way to get to the next neighborhood in less than fifteen minutes so we could get more Halloween candy. Jade is my best friend. We’ve known each other since kindergarten. Mason and I met each other at school last year while being office assistants. I met Samantha in P.E. at school last year. Out of the three of my friends, I'm closest to Jade because we’ve known each other for a long time.

The leaves detached from the branches of that old lemon tree and followed the wind’s flow. Some of them flew away from the corners of my eyes and some landed right by where I was sitting down; next to the empty road. I was waiting for his arrival, the arrival of the boy I’ve only known for less than a year but quickly left a lingering feeling within me. I considered him my best friend in everyone else’s eyes, but to just me, I knew he was way beyond that level. I sat down by the side of the narrow sidewalk, where we met for the first time. He came to my house for a special group project and brought a tiny but elegant box of chocolates for me and my mom. Of course I’ve seen him at school before, but this is where I first started warming up to him; right in front of my house. I asked him to meet me here so we could go to “the spot” ; today I was going to tell him how quickly my heart beats when I look right into his face, at the extent that it’s hard for me to breath, I had to tell him how much, him not being there ruined my entire day and how every time he hugged me, nasty and cold liquid bullets would run down every inch of my body. Love, or just having a crush, none are a pleasant experiences. Whichever way I chose to tell him, it had to be now or never. It hadn't even been three months since my mother told me we were moving back to Canada, for a new beginning; I had already been decided . But now it was the time to tell him, because soon enough I was going to be up in a

I was sitting by a small creek thinking. The British people are intruding and I don’t know how to react. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do about it, but I figured nothing was happening to me now, so I could worry about it later. I live in Cherry Valley near a small creek. My best friend is Nadie. Her name means wise, but no offense to her, she isn’t very smart. She’s been 15 since July. I’m Catori. I turn 16 in a month and a half. My name means spirit. A lot of the time I don’t get why it’s my name, but it is.

March 22, 2006, should have been a regular Wednesday for me. Me being in first grade, a regular Wednesday was to wake up at 8 a.m. to my father turning on my lights, and spiritedly but annoyingly singing, “Wake up, wake up!” Wincing at the light and my father's terrible voice, I was always able to wake up in order to shut him up. However, the most memorable part of this day was not during school but rather what happened later that day at home. It was my father’s birthday. My father was turning 33 and my mom had a little surprise for our family. To this day, I am not too sure whether my father knew it was happening or not, but my mom walked in through the front door holding a 10lb cream-colored standard poodle. My mom placed her on the dining room table; tail-wagging, tongue out, and super energized. Standing there in awe due to pure shock and astonishment, it was a moment I will always remember. I met my first true best-friend. It wasn’t just some friend though, this dog became my family. Chelsea was the smartest dog I knew, being able to understand our commands (In Russian of course, as we spoke that at home) at the age of 2. I was able to teach it hand commands, like raising my hand in front of me as if telling someone to stop, which signaled sit. Lay down was me waving my hand down, as if petting a dog in a vertical motion. Chelsea was a one of a kind dog to say the least, bringing joy and comfort to a growing family. My dog perfectly fit the stereotype all poodles have.

When I was a child, what I wanted most was to be a cowboy. Once I was old enough, my father would take me along to care for and check on his cows nearly every night. I loved spending time with my father when I was young because I was free to do anything with him without my mother there to keep me from getting dirty. I could get as muddy as I liked and use my vast imagination to turn puddles into oceans before we hopped into his old truck at the end of the night and let the fluorescent compass display above our heads lead us home. This continued through my childhood until he became too busy to take me to the farm and I became too busy with my schoolwork. I believe I was very lucky to have such a happy childhood, but unfortunately, it did not last as long as I would have liked.

“A true friend is someone who is there for you when he’d rather be anywhere else.”- Len Wein. Ever since the day Tom got in trouble and had to sit by Becky Thatcher, they became best friends, and even claimed they loved each other. One day when Becky and Tom stopped getting along, Becky sought out to find what the other schoolchildren referred to as the teacher’s secret book. To her great delight, she found the book and began flipping through the many pages. However, while hastily flipping through, Becky tore one of the pages. Tom happened to waltz in at just the right moment and witness this fatal act. She fearfully put the book back in its place begging Tom not to tell, and anxiously awaited the moment the teacher would find it. Once he found his book, torn page and all, the teacher began questioning everyone in the school house if they had done it. In a state of pure petrification, Becky knew she could not lie to the teacher even if she tried, and so she awaited her punishment. Astonishingly, however, Tom noticed the fear, and tragedy in Becky’s eyes, and as the school master neared Becky to confront her, Tom rose up and declared that he tore the book, relieving Becky of her dreaded punishment. Everyone who reads this touching tale, wants Becky and Tom to get along, however, some believe Tom should have taken Becky’s punishment, while others believe he should not have. Despite contrary beliefs, Tom

You know that feeling of contentment and pure delight you get when you’re around a loved one? Well that’s exactly what I feel when I’m around my best friend Karah. She is a Texas native and lived here her whole life, until she moved far, far away. That is when my whole world drastically changed.

It's not that long ago that this happened. Some might even say i shouldn’t stay in the past since it’s not gonna change anything but i’d rather not forget everything i experienced with her. If she finds out that i wrote about her but if she does oh well because it really won’t matter anymore. I wasn’t sure about this at first but i eventually i got used to the idea so after you hear this i hope it doesn’t change your view on me.

After being taken back to the unit, the kids were at lunch, so I felt relieved. If you haven’t realized by now, my relief is always temporary. I was strip searched and taken off all of my medications that eased me due to doctor’s orders, he wanted me on a clean slate. I sat in an all white room with blinding blue chairs that were drilled into the ground, a television behind plexus-glass, and a table built onto the wall. I didn’t know when I had first arrived this room would become familiar and a part of my everyday life. My roommate became my best friend. She held me when I cried, played with my hair, and told me how wonderful I was. I didn’t the same for her: when she would have a break down in our bathroom, I went in, turned the light off, held her, and she would cry her heart out. She wasn’t like that though, she was such an aggressive and angry person, but to me, she was the sweetheart who loved to splatter paint on a blank canvas, create a masterpiece in her journal, and that had an odd obsession with fuzzy socks. She was stunning. Her milky way, caramel colored skin that was soft to the touch always glowed. She has these drop-dead gorgeous eyes that were an odd brown, that looked green in the lighting, but in the center she had red bursting out like fire into the cool, muddy waves. Her hair was a curly, beautiful disaster. I loved waking up to her wet head and it took her twenty minutes to get it styled, even if it was just a pony-tail. She also had this great

Death is an inevitable thing. It lingers over our head like a dark cloud and likes to follow us around everywhere we go. It’s something that is forgotten about and wished away. It’s something that can come trucking through your life and take you with it on the way out, or it’s something that can come peacefully during the night to whisk you away. It’s something that can take someone years to get over, or for some it could take weeks. It’s something that either bring people together, or tears them apart. Most people like to push the thought of it into the furthest part of their brain in hopes to forget it. I am one of those people. On November 12, 2014 my best friend took his own life. We weren’t even fourteen years old yet.

It was Tuesday, July 18th. I was a nervous wreck. In desperate need of clothes to wear to impress... her. I begged my best friend Todd to join me at Woodfeild mall. He gave in and we went. Todd and I shopped for hours. Nothing looked good enough for...her. We were running out of time. I made-do with four short sleeve shirts from Champs and two pairs of sweatpants shorts from h&m. The total came out seventy dollars. We walked out and got into Todds car. I was shaking the entire ride home. Will she like it? Am I going to look fat? What about my acne? What if she doesn’t end up liking me? Nothing else crossed my mind as we pulled up to my house and I was dropped off. There was around an hour and a half until I had to leave. I walked inside