Belle

A couple of hours is enough to get me excited to see you again. I am a child on a Christmas morning when I see you. When I see you, I cannot help but smile like an idiot. Somehow I feel safe around you, even though I know if we get chased you would ditch me. Wanting to talk to you somehow, you immediately come to my mind. Knowing how talented you are, I am inspired. Your poetry leaves me speechless just like the taste of cookies & cream ice cream every time. You care about everyone, more than yourself. You have a big heart, bigger than my stack of homework. You are never scared to go out your comfort zone, just like me getting out of my bed every morning. You complain about everything, saying you are not good enough, not beautiful enough, not brave enough. But little do you know, in my eyes, you are prettier than Belle and braver than Mulan. You keep helping others while drowning in your own problems. We both know our texts are crazy and if anybody saw them, they would think we are weird. Which we both agree with. Weird as New Yorkers. We both know our moods change like the weather in Texas and we both know how to help each other. We keep struggling, but we know we can always rant to each other later. No matter how small or big our problems are, we tell each other. Everyone knows when it's the both of us together, we are awkward, weird, loud, embarrassing, and crazy. I tell you, "There is a drama club meeting today!" "No." "Please, please," I plead. "Fine," you huff. I drag you, you sit anxious, but your face lights up as soon as you see the refreshments. "Thank you for bringing me here." You smile, glad you came. We both know, you would do anything for food. Even if it's you having to sacrifice going home early and writing poetry. Writing poetry is your escape while taking a shower is mine. You lie on the ground in the middle of your room when you are upset staring at the roof, wondering when you will be able to escape all this and be set free, while I stand under the hot shower, fantasizing about my present and future, while feeling guilty about the water running, remembering when the principal assistant said, "Kids in Africa are starving," which you still think is silly. At the end of each day, we both congratulate each other on making it through the day alive and then head home to text each other about what our future will look like or at least what we hope to. Despair. You still struggle to convince your parents to trust you on going to film school while I still struggle to convince my mom to let me sleep over at your house. You suddenly wanna jump a bridge and I wanna fly high. Like most girls, I think Harry Styles is cute, but you being the "unique" you, you think he looks like a monkey. We both are "unique" and weird in our own way. We might sometimes be different, but we can always understand each other, we can always help each other out. You pose under the tree while I continue taking endless pictures of you. If only you can realize how beautiful you are, maybe I would be able to. If one day, when we are much older, and we re-watch these pictures and videos, you would finally see your beauty. I keep on taking pictures, recording everything we do maybe because what if one day this all fades away and I add onto my list of vanished friendships. Or maybe because it's all surreal. How did I get lucky and actually get a friend like you? Maybe one day, I will do something cheesy like this to make you realize your truly beautiful soul.