Dusty morningMature

I felt like I wanted to die. The tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, drenching my skin. All of my pent up anger released. All of my suppressed anguish emerged. The pain, dejection, and rage began to pour out of me in liquid form. I buried my face in my hands, trying to stop it. But I didn't want to. I didn't want to stop it. It was finally coming out. And I would be free once it was over.

I cried deep into the night. I lay face down in my pillow, drenching it in my tears. I occasionally screamed into my pillow in frustration. I screamed as loud and long as I could. I stopped only because my throat couldn't take it anymore. I later just lay there, letting my leaking eyes play its course. When the waterfalls began to finally let up, I found myself thinking. Why did I cry? Why would I cry for this long? Was it because of my dad? Was it what he said? Did it hurt me? Or am I crying out of relief? It hurt too much to be relief. I remained there, my thoughts roaming for my questions' answers.

A knock came to the door, and I heard footsteps walk over to my computer chair, followed by a small squeak of the chair. My head was still in my pillow,but I still knew who it was before I rose my head. Miranda's hair was up in a ponytail, still unkempt from last night. She looked at me with such earnest intention, I knew then that my mom had told her. And she knew I did.

"You think he's coming back?"

"I don't know," I said with a sniffle. I was surprised. Usually I would've thought I'd say something like "I hope not." or "If I only were that lucky."

"Do you want him to?"

"I don't know. If it doesn't like me this way, it'd be better if he keep his distance."

I watched as Miranda searched her thoughts. I'd never seen her like this. It's bad enough that I have to deal with myself doing unthinkable, uncustomary things, but I'd never thought it would come from the redhead sitting across from me. Miranda, who burned all her dad's pictures when her parents split, wouldn''t need a second thought on most situations. This was new.

"What do you think is the reason why I cried when he left?" I lifted myself onto my elbow, facing her, "I'd always wished I'd get away from him. That he'd never have to talk to me or my mom again, but I'm doing this in the wake of his absence."

At about this time, Miranda would shoot off a swift, emotionless "Be careful what you wish for." right into my tear-moistened face, but now she just nods and says "Yeah" blankly.

"Are you okay?" I heard myself say without thinking.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't seem as blunt or straightforward today. Somethin' wrong?"

She looked away again. She then grabbed my hand, her eyes set on me. Her voice was soft and comforting as she spoke.

"You're hurting right now. As much as you hate your dad, he still hurt you. Getting it thrown in your face wouldn't help at all. At times when you weren't truly hurting, I'd not give any second thought towards expressing my opinion. Now you are, and I can't do that. I wouldn't be a good friend if I did."

I grinned at her. I knew she was right. She was always there. There to tell me what I needed to hear, even when I didn't want to. I felt my tears continuing as I hugged her, but this time my tears were shed out of happiness. I had a true friend. I had now realized it. My dad was gone. He had removed himself from my life. Despite that, I found myself happy. I had learned that my dad had left me, but also found out that Miranda never would

The End

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