“Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.” Eleanor Roosevelt’s wise words resonate deep within me. I have had friends come and go, but only a select few really made a difference. True friends are the ones that you can count on, through thick and thin, no matter the situation. What you don’t expect is for the person you have spent most of your life with to begin changing before your very eyes, when you need them the most.

I have a friend, who I have known for countless years, before even elementary school. We will call her Bella. I did everything with Bella. Many a Friday night would be spent making funny videos at her house, traipsing through the mall trying to find a bargain, or snuggled up with something sweet and salty for a movie night. Shared classes would guarantee a pair of neighboring desks and numerous giggles. I considered her residence to be my second home, and never hesitated to rummage through her kitchen looking for something to eat. She knew my secrets and I knew hers. I could trust her with anything. Just as everything seemed great, then came high school.

At first it was not easily detected; a change in clothing, newer, cooler friends, even the way she spoke. I brushed it off determinedly, knowing, no…believing, that everything would be fine. Soon I was the awkward third-wheel, trailing behind, that person you could care less if they were present or missing from the group. Dutifully, I ignored the signs written in the boldest neon, forcing myself to remember the blissful years of our childhood. I clung to the tiniest shred of hope that maybe, just maybe, a memory would trigger something in her head. Her makeup got thicker and my painful optimism wore thinner.

Eventually I became too wounded to continue. I was tired of being thrown away for a new, shiny toy and then fallen on like a trampoline when Bella’s escapades malfunctioned. I would frequently feel the stinging stab of being a second-choice, comparing each day to single-digit years where the thought could not even possibly be conceived. Then I tripped upon the hard part. How do you distance yourself from someone who has been your best friend for 12 years? Trick question, you don’t. We are too close for it to be possible. She still needs me in a remote way, like a teenager who still sleeps with their blanket from infancy: purely for security. I am the lock on her soul, and the only one who knows the combination is Bella herself. I cannot leave. I am stuck.

I am not sure if this feeling is melancholic or ecstatic. On one hand, I am chained to the one who has made me miserable, coaxing tears from my eyes. No friend should ever make you cry. On the other, I now have an excuse to stay. As a creature of habit, losing a constant that has been set in stone since preschool would be extremely difficult. Not to mention I would have no one to fall back on, like Bella has done to me numerous times. No one has been as close to me as Bella has. Perhaps that is why it hurts so much. Being brushed off. Being ignored for a more worthy conversationalist. Most of all, seeing your best friend walk away, leaving you alone with no life preservers to cling to.

A friendship with Bella is all give and no take. However, I have managed to salvage fond memories from the debris. As these recollections fade and the new ones gradually appear at a snail’s pace, I realize that I am clinging to the past. I have been hanging from the cliff for too long, hoping Bella will reach down and take my hand. Some days I think I should just pull myself onto solid ground and leave this tragic scene behind. Others I hoist myself up and laugh shakily, following loyally in Bella’s shadow. I need someone to show me the other side of friendship. I need to see the sun and the flowers. I do not want to stay amongst the dead trees and hide in the choking dark.