Friendship
What is true friendship to you? Because to my best friend, it’s murdering my rapist.
Sometimes I wonder if It’s still murder if the person deserved it.
Sometimes I wonder what qualifies as being deserving of death.
Most days Margo and I just sat and watched silly videos on our phones, occasionally tilting the screen towards the other person to get a reaction and some validation. Other days we would get violently high and go to the grocery store. Whatever it was we were doing, we were doing it together.
And it had been that way. Since middle school. Well specifically, it had been that way since one fateful day in the seventh grade. I would like to preface this story by saying, I had a rough childhood, and so did Margo. They say the damaged find each other, and we certainly did. One day in the seventh grade Margo and I were paired together for a school project, this particular project was to make a family tree.
Margo’s family has always been complicated because she technically doesn’t have a dad, well at least she doesn’t have one that’s been there, or one that’s not currently enrolled in clown college, and forever avoiding paying child support.
We have an inside joke that Margo’s dad turned Margo’s mom gay because ever since Margo was a kid her mom has brought purely women home.
I started working some of this out from Margo’s family tree, but the rest of her story took years to learn because, as you’ll see, Margo is a tough nut to crack.
Margo and I instantly clicked because she knew nothing about her dads side of the family and I knew nothing about my moms side of the family.
“It’s a shame you weren’t born into my family.” I remember saying to her one day on the turf of our middle school’s soccer field.
“Why’s that”
“My dad would’ve loved having a daughter like you.”
“Your dad loves you.” She would remind me
“Yes of course, but he would also love you.”
She smiled at that. And I knew from that day on I would make my home open to Margo whenever she wanted.
When highschool came around Margo and I had already become the inseparable set of twin flames we would forever be. I mean the girl was at my house every day after school, and I loved it.
Something you must know about me is I hate being alone. Because when you’re alone the thoughts can all hit at once with nothing to cushion the blow, nothing to change the subject, nothing to snap me out of it. It was nice having Margo there all the time for so many reasons but I honestly don’t think I would’ve been able to survive my own head if it weren't for her.
I was right about my dad loving her. My dad and Margo bonded almost immediately. They would play video games and watch Sci fi Tv shows that I couldn’t wrap my head around long enough to find entertaining. It honestly worked out perfectly.
High School was rough for both of us. There was a whole year where I was in and out of the psych ward. Margo and I have a theory that my mother just didn’t know what else to do when she saw my train tracks of wrists but neither of us dared tell her that. Especially considering she was nice enough to let Margo come with every time they visited me in the ward.
For Margo, money was something she worried about from the day she had a conscious thought. But it got really bad when we got to highschool because her mom tore her ACL and couldn’t work for a while. This led Margo to get a job to help pay for rent, and when that still wouldn’t cover their rent, Margo dropped out of school to pick up more shifts.
You could say I dropped out of school in solidarity but after spending my whole junior year in and out of a psych ward, I thought, what’s the point in attempting senior year?
This did mean that the both of us missed some “fundamental growing up stuff” as our parents lovingly reminded us regularly. One can only imagine they meant prom, graduation, oh and the chance to go to college of course.
I don’t really care about school and never have, and I’m not trying to speak for Margo but the both of us had bigger things to worry about from day one of life than some silly homework and assignments.
“Hey do you ever think we’ll get out of this shithole town.” was a common phrase used between us.
Something you have to know about Margo and I is that we told each other everything. We quite literally did not go a day without talking either over the phone or she was at my house ranting at the foot of my bed about how much she hated my boyfriend, whoever it was at the time. Margo had no shame telling me how much she hated each and every guy I dated.
“Why not date someone normal, or, I don't know, attractive?” She would ask, and I would just shrug.
I told her the second I was interested in a guy. I would also come crying to her the second that man inevitably broke my heart.
Margo told me things too. Although, Margo wasn’t really one to have much boy drama as boys were a waste of time to her. I swear to god you will never meet a more work oriented person than her, the two things Margo makes time for: me, picking up coworker’s shifts. My best friend had nothing to tell me about boys but she always had a good story about a customer who “had way too much attitude for someone within punching range.”
It’s not that my best friend is violent, it's just that she lives a chaotic life. Honestly I cannot blame her for her built up rage. She's worked in customer service for far too long for someone our age.
