My Not So Secret Diary

Just a girl's life and mind...

Sorry for getting off topic most of the time; just what was going through my mind...

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1. 2nd February 2013

Dear Diary,

I am feeling so ill today, so I am not going to do anything except watch tv and write besides it's not as if anyone's paying much attention to me anyways...

Von made my day today! 

Just to fill you in, Von is one of my best friends. I've known him since primary school although we never actually became close friends until I left the school at the end of Year 9. We became even closer as my 16th birthday edged nearer and on my birthday he announced that I was officially his new best friend! I'll admit, we don't seem like best friends at all but if he sees us as best friends; who am I to say no?

Von made my day today because firstly, he was the first and only person to ask me how I was feeling; and secondly, he asked me how I was feeling. I was surprised because he isn't exactly the caring type and doesn't usually ask the other person how they are feeling. Being a teenage girl with my raging hormones and all, naturally I felt pretty over the moon; if you're a teenage girl you probably know how it feels. Thirdly, no guy has ever asked me how I was feeling, not even when I had my operations... but that's a separate story altogether...

You see, the problem with thinking about my operations, leads to thoughts about Kurran...

Again, I'll fill you in...

I'm not really sure what to say about Kurran so maybe I should just explain the situation between us...

We became friends simply because our parents are best friends and grew up together, meaning that we grew up together. We were best friends and people knew it; going to each other's houses every week and playing weird games that only we could understand. It wasn't until we turned 13 that we started drifting apart... He made new friends and started to act like his older brother who tried to act cool. To put it as simply as possible: he forgot about me. As you already know, I didn't forget about him...

Going back to thoughts about Kurran...

It was about 8 years ago when I had my stitches taken out. I say this because it just so happened that they were removed at his house. I had gone to his house with my mum, when it was normal for us to visit regularly. Kurran, Milun (his older brother) and I were in their garden on their play set: one of those play sets with a bright yellow slide, a couple of swings and a mini tree house type thing with a ladder. Kurran offered to push me on the swings and I let him, I was quite high and felt on top of the world - I completely forgot about the operations, the stitches, everything.

Then I came face to face with the ground. Luckily for me I hit grass and mud but 2cm more and I would have hit concrete. I don't remember anything between playing on the swings and hitting the ground but I do remember that it was time to have my stitches taken out.

Looking back on it, falling over and stopping playtime could be interpreted as it being time to stop the happiness of playing and facing the time of pain. Am I starting to read into things too much?

Between the front door of their house and their garden was a cute little bench that seated 4. I sat next to Kurran and my mum sat next to his mum - Anita; on the opposite side. Milun stood next to my mum and soon took her seat. My mum took Kurran's seat as he was instructed to stand between us and hold tissues. In order to take the stitches out, special plier type tools had to be used and the purpose of the tissues were to soak up any blood produced. Due to the state of shock from the pain the tears in my eyes rapidly streaked my cheeks. Every so often, Kurran put the tissues to my head and although I could see the red stains against the white of the tissues, I asked if there was any blood. My mum replied with a 'no'. Of course I knew she was lying. Being best friends with Kurran and knowing that he wouldn't lie to me, I asked Kurran. The question only resulted in the same response.

I didn't understand why they both lied to me. I suppose he was either just as scared as I was or he was just trying to be a good friend and protect me from feeling scared and upset. I hope that it was the latter but I will never know. I'm over-analysing again aren't I? 

Just a word of warning: This next part get awfully emotional!

Nowadays, I still have something inside of me which hopes that we could still be best friends, but it seems as if the harder I try to be a good friend; the more force he puts into throwing it back in my face. I wish I could say that I will stop trying and maybe that's what he's trying to tell me but the thing is, throughout the whole time of my suffering, he never let go of my hand. This sounds incredibly stereotypical but a good friend is someone who never leaves your side, despite the pain and suffering. For that I can never repay him.

Guess what? That also leads to another story...

Bye. For now.

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