Copy And Paste In A Different Font

I used to have a close friend that was just like me, soul sisters if you will. We were the same on the inside but completely different on the outside. I like to call it my copy and paste in a different font. Here’s my story. The story of how our friendship bloomed, only to wither away and fall apart in the end, because no matter how similar we were on the inside, our differences on the outside made it impossible to stay close.

It all started on my first day of sophomore year. I woke up early in the morning, put on my best outfit, did a cute hairstyle I saw on Pinterest and did my makeup. My mom made breakfast: fresh pancakes, honey maple bacon, and scrambled eggs. After breakfast I began my walk to the bus stop; the bus arrived at the same time I did. I held my head up high despite being nervous, but when I saw my friends my nerves hit the door and my smile came knocking. I sat in the back with my own seat to myself. Just as the bus was about to drive off I saw a girl. In all black, huge black boots, a spiky choker around her neck, and her hair, it was puffy, not messy but big. The puffy look was clearly intentional; she styled it that way. She then stepped on the bus out of breath, and that’s when I saw her face: long thick eyeliner and piercings. The bus was full and nobody wanted to scoot over for her, not even my friends. So I did. She sat next to me and gave me a big smile; I returned one. We talked the whole time about our favorite shows, songs, and sports. Our conversation flowed effortlessly like the waves of the ocean.

Halfway through my first day I was already tired. Drained from all the icebreakers and the “Name 5 things you did during summer!” in almost every class. On the bright side it was lunch, and I had a nice bagel with bacon, egg, and cream cheese waiting on me. I sat at my usual table with all my friends. I opened my Ziploc bag reaching for my bagel only to see the same girl from the bus sitting alone and, to my surprise, she was holding a bagel, toasted but plain, just like mine. She waved with that same big smile but before I could wave back I heard laughing; my friends were making fun of her. The outfit, the boots, the eyeliner, I felt bad. I tried to tell them to knock it off but that was like telling a trail of ants to not go after a fresh cookie that fell on the floor. Finally school ended and it was time to ride the bus again. I got there early, and a few minutes later the bus started to fill up again, and there she was. She came and sat next to me. I figured she would be mad at me for not waving back but instead she asked me a question. “What was in your bagel?” I laughed and we talked the whole ride again. We exchanged numbers and socials; little did I know I had just met my best friend. We started to hang out daily, after school and even during school. My friends began to like her as well, but there were still whispers and occasional laughs. Before I knew it sophomore year was over.

During the summer we basically lived together, having sleepovers that lasted a week, going on trips together and more; she was not only my best friend, she became family. We started to go shopping but instead of buying those boots she liked, I would suggest that she got sneakers instead. Instead of chokers, necklaces. Instead of all black, more bright and vibrant colors. Instead of her styling her hair in those two puffy pigtails, she styled her hair down, her curls bouncy and defined like mine. As her style changed day by day I didn’t notice that big smile of hers getting smaller, that sparkle in her eye dimming more and more each day. She started to talk less, post less. It got to a point where she stopped coming over. She was depressed but I was too worried about my next post on Instagram or getting the newest shoes or bag.

Then junior year started, but it was different. When she got on the bus she didn’t sit with me; she sat in the front. It felt like we were miles apart; it made my heart sink. In school she didn’t sit with me. She didn’t have a bagel; instead she sat alone and instead of having a bagel she had a mayo and ham sandwich, the two foods I can’t bear to swallow and right when I got home I got the text. A huge paragraph that started with “I can't be your friend any longer I don’t even feel like me”. There was no room for negotiation and my pride was too big to apologize, but I've grown, and here is my apology.

I’m sorry for changing who you were and not accepting the person I met on the bus in the first place. I didn't mind your style, I just wanted the laughing, the whispers, and pointing to stop. I saw how much it affected you behind closed doors, but now I realize instead of changing you I should've stood up for you. Maybe then our differences wouldn't have separated us.