Personal Narrative Essay : My Best Friend

She giggled. “I know he likes me. I wish he would just ask me out alread-”

As we grow older we realize that not all friends can be trusted. People change and friends become distant as they discover different interests. This is when we realize that the person we thought was our best friend is now growing into an enemy that knows all our secrets. As we grow apart so do our mutual friends, and interests change towards other people. Our best friends know our weaknesses and later use that against us. I’ve been hurt by a so called friend, unfortunately I learned the hard way, but now I am careful.

My involvement with Best Buddies and UT SEEK (Student Engineers Educating Kids) has strengthened my appreciation for people of different backgrounds and conditions.

There was one day in the summer of my 7th grade year, it was a little different than others because I was about to head to Orlando, Florida to play baseball. This was a very exciting time for me and my entire team because we had worked so hard to get to this very moment at this very tournament. After a short flight we arrived in Orlando. This was a great sight because you could see ESPN World WIde of Sports complex from a mile away. This was a start to an absolutely great time and tournament in Florida.

A strong friendship does not need to talk 24/7, but when we do it is like we were always there with each other. It was a frosty December evening in Flagstaff, Arizona, my best friend, Mercy and I were having a snowball fight in the clear white snow. We were giggling at each other for our gruesome aim. That day was our tenth year friendship anniversary, so we decided to take a road trip. Now a days, we do not always receive time to hang out, since we live three hours away from each other. Nevertheless Mercy lives in Yuma, Arizona and I live in Phoenix, Arizona.

I have been a troupe 1224 member of Estancia Drama since my sophomore year of high school. As a child, I took daring acting and modeling classes. My parents had difficulty taking me to them because I hated being on stage. I felt uncomfortable and afraid of everyone judging me. As I grew up, I kept the same attitude towards the arts while my oldest brothers continued to act. They came home late from rehearsals with tired and committed faces. I never bothered to ask what rehearsals were and what they did, but when my family and I went to see them perform, their time to the program showed off. It was not my intention to take Beginning Drama my freshman year, but I was not going to pass up such a huge opportunity. As a senior, I have been in seven shows. In five of them, I was an actress and in two, I was behind the scenes working on lights and sound. The process of putting on a show has taught me more than any other extracurricular possibly can. We learn how to work with each other, a group ranging from twenty to forty students. For every show, we work fifteen hours or more a week on different

It is amazing how many things we take for granted. We make plans for the day, and don't think twice about how those plans can be taken away in the blink of an eye. I never thought much about it myself, until I was faced with the shock, and undeniable truth of my cousin's death. I don't think anyone really thinks about tragedy until they are actually faced with shocking news.

“Okay sissy, don't cry,” she pleaded.  I knew the day was coming up, but I tried not to think about it.  She was my absolute best friend and I could not imagine living 1,300 miles away.

In life people will meet so many different personalities and sometimes those people become some of their best friends. There will be people that will become a best friend, an intelligent friend, a crazy friend, a “hipster” friend, and a “mom” friend. All of these people make the group whole, and life is a lot more fun with them. Every single one of them bring their own special personality to the group. They all are in different categories based on what they do, their priorities, and what it says about them.

Looking back, I remind myself that friends are temporary, but memories are forever. This was going to be our last night together, Cesli and I. Cesli Crum was my best friend that I met in third grade. That year came and went, and though in fourth grade Cesli was held back, we still vowed to always be best friends. Then, that winter of two thousand fourteen, her family decided to move away. I felt devastated, so my mom agreed to have Cesli over one evening right before she left. Thus that is what brought us to be hanging out in my living room.

Best friends are a necessity to life. Who would you gossip to? Who would you tell your crush to? Who would comfort you in times of needs and sadness? Almost everyone at school has a best friend who they tell everything to, but what happens when the person you trusted most can’t be trusted anymore? What happens when your bestfriend isn’t your best friend anymore? To this day, I still feel a great amount of sadness thinking of this moment. Now, I feel like every best friend I have will just leave me again. I feel like this is a never ending cycle that won’t stop. After this day, I felt betrayed as if someone had stabbed me in the back. Luckily, the pain was only temporary and subsided, but the scar will always be there for the memory.

When you were still in the kindergarten, friends were the people who romped about with you, played mischievous tricks upon everyone. When you were getting bigger, perhaps at primary school, friends were the people who helped you in your homework, who sung with you at the school choir. Had you forgotten them? Had you betrayed them? Are you a good friend to your friends? A true friend would always tell you the truth, be you best partner when you need him, most of all, support you.

There is always that one person that you have that knows all of your secrets, shares all of your jokes, listens to all of your gossip and is simply someone you can call your best friend. I live with that person, or at least I used to. Her name is Allison, my sister and my best friend. Looking back at every single memory I have, she is there in some form or fashion. She is there holding my hand my first day of preschool, wearing the same jean jacket as I because our mom loved it when we matched. She is there on the basketball court with me during my very first game, helping calm my nerves and stop my shaking. She is there holding me while I cry over my first heartbreak, reassuring me that things will get better. Even after she graduated, leaving me in high school alone, she is still there. She is at every game cheering me on from the stands and is always willing to help me with things such as homework or listen to my constant rants about teachers.

I can 't tell you how many times I 've picked up the phone wanting to call you. I miss talking to you. I miss my best friend. Yes, I can honestly say this now since I have had time to think, you really were my best friend. I told you things that I had never told anyone else. I had always felt that I could tell you what was on my mind; without judgement or feeling insecure. I miss talking openly to you more than anything. So, I thought I would write you this letter (a no filter letter) just to be sure that you actually get it. Please bare with me my writing is horrible and I haven 't written a letter in years. Eight to be exact.

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