that can't be trusted

This is my 112th blog on 1/12/2012.

**a little (lotta) bit emo, a little be reflection**

I have been creeping on old HS friends on Facebook.

It's amazing how many stories we know about each other.

One girl in particular. We weren't best friends, but we were very close. I drove her to school every day for a year. I went to prom wit her ex-boyfriend and she didn't think that was weird. She told me so many stories (and I returned the favor) about her parents' divorce, her messed up relationships with guys, and how she felt inadequate.

We had sleepovers, went to concerts, and called each other crying.

She introduced me to Ben Folds.

I was devastated when she moved to KC my senior year. She was a year behind me. I drove up to see her and we dressed up like skanks and saw "Rocky Horror" with her new friends. I was scared she was drinking too much. She assured me she wasn't.

We told more stories. We exchanged feelings about how awful parents are. How friends can't be trusted. How boys are the worst.

She was artistic. She still is, according to FB. She inspired me. She got me to paint (although she doesn't know it). She gave me confidence. She let me know it was going to be okay.

She had a turtle and his cage smelled.

We were dancing partners in "Grease" because there weren't enough boys.

We haven't spoken in a year or two, but randomly say "I miss you" on Facebook.

It's funny how those thoughts all of the sudden come back to you, when you click on her page because she has a new profile picture, and you start walking down memory lane.

If you find this, Emlay (as I so lovingly called her), please know how much you mean to me.