Short Story: A New Friend

I always forget that time doesn’t want on anyone. Things shouldn’t be a standstill, but that’s how I want them to be. I wish moments didn’t feel like forever and then fade away. It’s okay though because even though I forget this I’ve started to understand the art of timing. But, what’s obvious, right now is the everything is moving. It’s been obvious in this depression.

You see, my family moved to Oregon last year and what’s the saddest about it all is that I’ve been missing my friends more and more each day. It was just like yesterday Bethany and I was riding bikes along trails.

I get tired of being a military brat because I’m forced to get used to being detached from everyone around me. I’ve started my friend groups so many times not that it feels natural to not have anyone. Moving away means people won’t call as much, don’t care to keep texting you, and you definitely have to get used to being alone because before you can establish an identity all the invites to parties you potentially had are gone. It is beginning to feel normal to always question my social life and be so alone. I feel like I’m not anyone to anyone.

Either or, I think that everything will finally be fine, only, I met this new girl. Her name is Christine, everything seems fine it’s just that she has creepy tendencies. From time to time, I can find her staring into the window of my room on the first floor. Her eyes are usually wide and just when I feel spoked about it she decides to say, “Boo!” Then, she’ll proceed to make a joke. I usually don’t have a choice but to let her in through the front door of our home afterward.

It always gives me chills. I wonder just how long she’s been standing there, if she saw me naked, why she never asks to come over. But, once I let her in through the front door she seems so normal that all of those questions get placed behind me.

There have been numerous times that she’s gotten me into trouble with my parents because they’ll tell me over and over again, “Christine is not to be over here when the street lights come on,” but I never listen. I feel as though I can’t listen. I think her intentions are to just be friends, but I get this weird feeling.

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I decided to create this diary entry because I’ve been seeing a counselor to help me cope with change. She’s been telling me that I can bring my entries in to help guide the conversation and she wants to know about some of the things that have been going on around me. I thought this was a good leeway into the sessions… to open with this entry. But, I guess I won’t know for sure until later, right?

Anyway, I keep reflecting on what brought me into therapy in the first place, oh boy, I don’t want to talk about that. I feel it’s another conversation for another day.

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