my superboy

A story of friendship and of what happens when it ends.

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3. Calm before the Storm

Soon I was his best friend, I was the sidekick, I was the talented (though less talented than him) and smart (but not as smart as him) best friend. He understood my demons as I understood his, I didn’t realize it but by this time I had spiraled into a depression. I finally knew the demons he had spoken so much about for they were my own. I didn’t cut myself but I would binge and purge until I saw blood. I was a mess and he was my rock. Soon he was the strong one, the alive one, the father I wished I had.  I was being bullied mercilessly about my body, my emotional writing, for the attention I was always searching for.  He was the only one who protected me, he was the only friend who spoke up and so soon he became the only friend I could trust. Summer came and it was the first time since our friendship began we would be apart for more than a few days. He left to be a counsellor in training at a children’s camp and he came back lighter. He came back more whole and I loved the camp for giving him hope. He raved about it, told stories I wasn’t a part of and I was jealous but happy. That’s when I realized there would never be a point where I wouldn’t miss him when he was away. It’s when I realized he hadn’t just watched me grow but had directly contributed to that growth. He wasn’t just my rock, he was my roots. Who I was, was tangled up in who he was. I could no longer imagine my future without him because I didn’t know who I was without him and I was so pleased. No other 14 year old I knew had something like this and I was beyond protective but also secure. It was the two of us to conquer the world.

We would sit around and talk about the future, about prom and graduation and art schools and weddings. He would be a famous director and I a famous actor to star in his productions.  He was my person and I was his and everyone else was a supporting role in the movie I thought we lived. With him I grew and learned about myself. It was him who encouraged my writing and art and then it wasn’t just mine but his. Everything I was I owed to him, everything I knew was due to him. I was his and I truly believed we were different, we would make it. Our friendship was the one people would be jealous of. Sometimes though, on rare occasions I saw a bit of foreshadowing, the odd comment or glance and I got scared. I accused him of not caring as much as I did but he was adamant, his eloquent speeches and sweet words put my mind to rest. I was being crazy, insecure. He said he couldn’t even explain to the extent of which he cared about me. Winter turned to Spring which turned to summer and I decided to join him as a counsellor in training at the children’s camp that he had worked the summer before. It was everything he said it would be and more, I had never felt so good, never felt so whole or important. I loved it beyond comprehension and we began to grow even closer. The stories I had once longed to understand I was now a part of and everything was perfect. Everything was right, for a time.

               

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