My Friend the Psychopath





Wrong. All wrong. She searched desperately for her name, somthing normal and unplaceable, unlike her real name which was Astrid.




That was what she decided on, like a nick name, only more. Every piece of paper she scrawled it on, flaring out the letters and plastering it in inked flowers and love hearts. It never bothered me before, before it all went wrong. But now I can look back and all I can see of my childhood is shreds of paper and dark misleading ink. All I had to show for it was a few crumpled bits of paper shoved into the backs of planners and school books. Although now they are all I have left of her.

We were in the same tutor group since year seven at our 'big girl's school' and were best friends instantly. The good years consisted of sleepovers, hour long phone calls and countless trips to the cinema or the park. Good old fashioned childhood fun. That only lasted for three years; oh what I wouldn't give to have had just one more year of it, of her. All I can think about now is what could have happened to us, how strong we could have become. Maybe we would go to the same university, share an appartment, go to each others weddings, be godmothers to each others children.

It could have happened.

But It didn't.

The End

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