My friend Sara

When I was young, I was very serene. Quiet. Always hiding myself from people with my sallies in nature. But as years passed, something in me became reckless. Something has shifted. I have become someone I do not recognize, something I do not recognize. I still love nature. And that's the reason. That's the reason why I'm so frustrated. My favorite place has been taken away from me. My life has been shattered to pieces, scattered all over the place. My one friend has died there, and it hasn't been the same ever since. I'm filled with grief. With anger. I loved her. I loved her. I - I loved her... so much... she was my best friend I-I... She was such a kind soul! so beautiful... When everyone asks me "Hey, how are you?" Which no one does, but I want them to – my real answer would be, "I'm unwell." I can't go to this place anymore, to my real, chosen home. Ahhh such nostalgia... such magic, such beauty! Was there. Experienced there. Lived there. I go there in my mind, though not physically. I soul travel. I can see it so clearly: the comulonimbus clouds, golden when the sun sets. The azure skies. Those poplar trees, so amberish in autumn. I counted three near the lake. The rain came down in silver drizzles in autumn. In winter, soft snow fell slowly. In summer, the sky was filled with birds. Robins, fluff chested. Songbirds, of all kinds. Bald eagles occasionally, singulars each time. That place was magic. Pure magic. And bliss... it was like some kind of an earthly heaven, a haven. A place so stunning it leaves your mouth fall to the ground. And Sara made it better. Even - even better. So much life she infused to that already lively place. Laughter, common jokes, sharing her beautiful, quirky thoughts, her ideas. Who she was. Sara always used to say, "I don't belong here", referring not to our sacred haven, but to Alabama in general. "I mean, I like the people here. Even love some. But I don't completely fit. I'm like a piece of a puzzle that almost fits, but one bit is not where it's supposed to go. It's not my home. It's not where I belong. I belong where the sky is vast and the birds are always chirping. I belong here, with you. With my awfully shy black headed boy," she mussed my hair, "this will always be my home." Softly she said it, smiling gloomily. She was my forever home. I think of her German parents often. They were so nice and welcoming. I loved them as if they were my own parents, as if I was their own blood. I was, and still am, a misfit, a lonely kid. But not with them. With them I felt like home. Less lonely. Much, much less. They welcomed me unto their home. They have given me warmth, care. Sara always made jokes with me at their table, like we were siblings. And we were. We really were chosen siblings. But Sara died from a lightning strike near that lake at our sacred haven. I was almost struck, too. Almost went to heaven with her... if I even DESERVE a heaven. But Sara was an angel. She is already in heaven. In heav... *sobbing* Why does everything has to be SO DAMN HARD?!why am I losing my one person in life when everything else is so bad?! Gosh... I sure hope she's in a good place. She was an angel! She was an angel. An... oh my god... I feel so terrible. First my abusing parents, now this... GOD, WHY DID YOU ABANDON ME?! My God...