My Friend

My friend Rebecca is a mess. Her life is a mess. She’s unreliable. She’s irresponsible. Why do I love her so much? She makes me feel alive, she makes me feel things are possible. She supports me when everyone else thinks I’m crazy. She has a big heart and would do anything for me – and sometimes does. She . . .

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “my friend.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “My Friend”

  1. My friend from college has been living in Mexico for the past 41 years. We lost touch shortly after graduating from college and reconnected 30 years later. She’s visited my neck of the woods twice, but i haven’t been able to travel to Mexico secondary to certain restraints surrounding my current life. I can say she’s been the most loyal friend I’ve had. True blue. Dealing with the distance has been somewhat of a challenge, but both of us consider ourselves lucky that now-a-days we can reach out to each other with the different modes available through social media.

  2. Janie met Greg in high school. She was 14, he was 16. He would come over after school and they would sit on her parents’ couch and talk. After a year, they’d go to the library to study or research her column for the local newspaper. They started dating a year later and he started following her. Everywhere. Janie broke it off, yet he continued. Greg was first her friend, then her boyfriend, and now her stalker.

  3. “Have you made any friends today?” A girl asked me on my first day in school soon after moving to Australia. The question left me confused. To a Russian, “my friend” doesn’t mean a person you’ve known for a day. It implies a deeper connection built over time. So how could I have made friends in a space of mere hours? This wasn’t the first example of cultural differences between Russia and Australia, but it’s one I probably remember the most.

  4. My friend(s) happen to be twins. We had been friends all the way back to high school. I actually met and was closer to Carol first. Soon thereafter I met her twin sister, Joan. All of us in our circle married and started to have babies with the exception of Carol. She moved out to California. The first time she came back home for a visit we all noticed a California accent. She had only been living out west for under a year. Over the years she dated a married fella while also dating a divorced fella at the same time. She married the latter. Do you think that owning his ownsuccessful business and two California homes affected her decision. They never had children and seemed to enjoy life. On retirement she moved back East and they bought a home for which they paid cash. You may be getting the picture here. By this time she had quite the ego and wasn’t very nice to either her friends or family. She thought she was quite the “lady of the manor.” Funny how life is! By this time her twin and I had become very close. I considered her one of my dearest friends. Since she unexpectedly died this past July I can’t help but think at times about the difference between the two and how life can change. More than ever I know my friend always was Joan.

  5. My friend always tries to take my money. He’s quite up front about it. When he sees me, he tells me as soon as he sits down. Sometimes, he sits directly to my left because “money flows clockwise,” as he puts it. I don’t know where he gets these ideas.

  6. I can’t call her my friend , as she was friendly with everyone . She wouldn’t let the stamp of authority of a group or clique , sully her pristine , free existence . That she didn’t align herself to , or swore allegiance to , a group , made itself felt painfully , on more than one occasion .

    Our board exams were round the corner , and teachers were racing with each other to finish the pending syllabus. The dress code for extra classes on weekends would be a bit hazy . On one occasion, everyone arrived in crisp, white , starched uniforms , and she came in a floral T-shirt with a corduroy skirt . She kept sitting at the last bench , smiling at everyone , enjoying every bit of the “sore thumb” appearance .

    On other occasion , she finished an assignment , way ahead of everyone , submitted it to the said teacher , a certified terror, and plunged the rest of the class into hot water. No one talked to her for days after that trespass. An unwritten moral code of conduct had been violated , and the class was in no mood to forgive. She was ostracized , no one would talk to her . Any number of apologies , hastily written in chalk on class black board , couldn’t suffice .

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