It was the year Peter Pan lived in my heart.
   

I was running, walking, and everything in between. I just didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t want to deal with stress that I had not brought upon myself. Stress dealt from my parent’s hands and not my own. I was in the ninth grade, when my parents decided they hated each other.
  

My only solace then was my friends, and they were the only people I would willingly go towards for the the things I needed for a perfect, holy month.
  

They knew how to cue the pain I was going through.
That day it was raining, not hard enough that hurt, but hard enough that it soaked through the thin sweatshirt I was wearing that night. I couldn’t tell you where I was or the color of the cars that continuously had swept past me. Everything was blurred like it wasn’t really there, or I wasn’t paying enough attention to care.
  

I just craved to be where the grass was greener, where my thoughts had a place and a time to be. And that was the place where the traffic stopped and I was surrounded by nothing but park benches and play structures. A place where the trees were not just for oxygen, but for climbing and admiring. My only focus, my destination; the park.
  

I had called two friends that night. One of them decided to meet me at the park. They brought me chinese food, mt.dew, and friendship. They were somethings to get me through the night. They were the fairies carrying my boat, things that kept me alive and floating, for at least another day.
  

The laughter was what I lived for then, and as we ran through the park, She asked me, “When’s the last time you climbed a tree.”

“Not in a million years,” I replied still laughing.

“You wanna climb one, I’ll help you,” she said.
So we did, and we picked the smallest one. with the most branches. And then we sat in her car for a while and talked. She was someone I had a lot of adventures with, in such a small amount of time.
  

She was a friend that was there for me when I needed her the most, but not forever, because like it or not things change very fast.
  

In my high school are involved in drama, in my high school because of some Peter Pan I was involved in drama. Drama wasn’t supposed to be real, My best friend wasn’t supposed to act so violently towards me. I cared about her.  
  

She was my Peter Pan, and I her wendy. We rode on the backs of the winds. We had an awful lot of adventures together. Whether that be a car ride or just finding another way to ease the pain. She was bold and broken like wrapping paper ripped off a present, shining in the sunlight.
 

We had no choice, we had no choice but to end it, two broken people can’t fix each other, right?
  

I never understood before then that friendships could be tarnished by the stupidest of things, and that it could leave you even more broken than when it began.

  She was my everything, I thought she was the one person I could trust.
  

I would ride the bus to the high school every day after school because I didn’t want to go to a house that was only filled with anger and tears.  
 

The band hallway was practically my home because of drama club and my friends who stayed after, I learned who my real friends were because this girl. I knew some of these people even longer than she had, they picked her over me. I guess once you know someone you are no longer intrigued to stand by there side.
 

They were the ones who would care for me while I was still this broken person.

They were the people with the softer, silenter voices, but they had the bigger, more open hearts.
 

One of them used to sit with me after school often, I was so exhausted one day and I had came to him crying, and I fell asleep on him. I understood that he knew what it was like to be exhausted.
  

Friendship is understanding, and maybe in some ways I had failed to do that for her. But you all you can do is learn from failure.
  

The beginnings and endings fade together, and the memories are better than the actual people. Just like Peter Pan flew away, she was the next to leave.