Sometimes, in life, everything can be better with a good friend surrounding you. In other cases, it can be bad. But in this case, I guess you could say it was bad. In just a couple of sentences, you will see, yet another ridiculous story from my childhood. This one is, especially ridiculous. Or maybe it is because I ate a raw sugar packet. Maybe it will be much more enjoyable than it is bad if you eat a raw sugar packet, I recommend you do.
Well, at least an hour ago, I was talking to my dad, while sitting on the couch. I was feeling very nostalgic about when I was little, because I kind of missed the feeling of being free, without the stress that you are forced to feel as growing up. I asked my dad if he could tell me a story from my past. And this, this is what he told me, but how I pictured it. There was a time when I was 5 years old, and I just realized there is no good way to end that sentence. One morning, I woke up with the most placid mood, and felt especially happy. I just wanted everyone in the world to hold hands, and sing together, with a big, broad smile upon each and every person’s face. Peace wriggled its way in to the center of my thoughts, and I was happy enough to hug a stranger.
Even though it was dark and gloomy outside, there was something that kept me together. And now, looking back on it, I think I know what it was. Friendship. And yes, I am aware of how corny that sounds, but it is true. I had a dream of a day, one special day, when everyone would just play. We all called it Best Friends Day.
As me being me, I wanted to make that dream come true. A part of me was ahead of the other, and believed it already did exist. My brain was completely wiped of any thought of sadness, and I was in the happiest mood you could ever be in. All in anticipation of a holiday I had come up with called Best Friends Day.
After dinner, I had the idea to draw pictures to sponsor Best Friends Day. My tiny mind believed that more best friends would come if I drew pictures of it. So, on my kitchen table, I grabbed my big box of crayons, and started drawing. For a little while, I drew pictures of hearts, people holding hands, and signs saying “Best Friends Day.” My feelings towards a fictional holiday were touching. For hours, I labored over the kitchen table, doing the best I could to make my little dream come true. I drew up to my limit, but yet didn’t stop there. I taped pictures of people holding hands on my bedroom window, and taped them on our front door, as a reminder for Best Friends Day.
Around 8:30, my dad walked in to the room. He saw me drawing my pictures, and let out a little, “aw.” I walked up to him, and in the most sincere voice, I said, “It’s Best Friends Day! I’m so excited for Best Friends Day!” I swiftly walked back to my chair, and started doodling once again. I thought my dad was about to talk, so I stared up at my dad, and gave him the biggest, broadest smile you could ever see. I believe my dad realized all that could happen at this moment, so he nervously said, “Uh, Char. It’s time to go to bed!” I still stared at him, but my big broad smile faded in to a look of dread. `I gave him a soul-staring look, a scarring look. A look in which you’d receive from the owner of the puppy you just ran over. He waved for me to follow him upstairs, and just as he had turned his head, something inside me snapped. “AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!” I screamed.
I faced my dad, and charged at him. Kind of like you’d do in football, but I don’t know how to play football. I lunged at him, and he picked me up. He started to go to the stairs, and I squirmed my way out of his arms out of desperation. Anger coursed through my veins, and I ran back to my chair. I grabbed my pencil, and drew sad faces all over my pictures of happy faces, which was ironic. My dad ran back to the kitchen, and picked me up like an angry suitcase, with a face, a sad face. Of course, I tried to get out of his arms. I bit his shoulder, and screamed louder than a hyena. However loud a hyena screams. Eventually, I was taken to my room from my dad, and it was a hard night for him. A couple of times I ran back downstairs. And a couple other times, I broke things. Let’s just leave the word, “things” like that. But, the next day, I completely forgot about Best friends day. I don’t understand how one day, I was obsessed with something, then the next, I wasn’t. But, in the end, who knows?