j-m-richards

I Can Be Alone and it's Okay.

I got through it, and I wore it like a badge of honor__ Can Be Alone and it's Okay.

It was nice. Even in high school, I__ mostly had makeshift friends forged by the shared status of outcast. It was rare for me to discuss things so easily to someone outside of my family, but somehow Jill got me.

I know he__ a realist, he__ okay with being alone, and he helps people when he thinks no one is watching.

When I arrived back at Intro to Basic Art again later that week, I thought for a moment we had a new student who didn__ know about the assigned seats. Sitting at my table was a girl in a long flowered dress, very vintage-hippie. She actually was wearing real flowers in her hair, and hardly any make up. I sat down, ready to explain to this poor lost soul that the seat was already taken, when I looked again and realized it was the same girl. I ended up not saying anything at all; I couldn__ think of anything that wouldn__ be rude or just plain stupid.

You shouldn__ have to pretend to be as excited as I am just to make me happy. If it comes to that, you shouldn__ have to pretend to be anything around me. Friends should be real with each other

I suppose that means you don__ want any band-aids, either,_ I said, a touch more bitterly than I__ meant to.

Well, if you can accept that I__ a great big geeky fangirl, then I guess I can accept that you__e a skeptic and a realist.

If he can__ handle it, then you aren__ very good friends, are you?

I bundled in my own blanket and reflected on the strange and somewhat unexpected friendship that was slowly developing between Davin and myself. It was clear to me that he needed a friend, but for reasons unknown to me, thought that it was better for him to be alone.

When the moment shifts, and you realize you don't actually want to be alone, that underneath the bravado is an ache that won__ quite fade away, you__e not only aware of how lonely you are, but how much you've been lying to yourself.

As much as I cared about him, I wasn__ a slave to fate. I could choose to ignore my feelings, strong as they were. It would be painful, but no more so than letting myself pine for my friend.

I had always thought that I was fine with being alone. Halfway through high school, I moved from Brazil to America, and it took me forever to make friends. I had culture shock of virtually every kind, besides which I was awkward, geeky, and shy. So I ate alone, telling myself that it was fine while I watched other people have normal conversations with their friends.

Being in love with your best friend is problematic.

I need you to just trust me for now without knowing all the answers.

You have to be a friend to have them.

If you want to call it quits, just tell me. Man up and say it to my face. Don__ just skulk around.

I suddenly felt the way Cinderella might have felt if she hadn__ had that convenient midnight curfew: my feet were hurting, my hair was slipping free from its pins, and my makeup was getting all smudged from sweat. I was unbelievably tired, undeniably depressed, and I just wanted charming.