Okay, I admit it. I am scared to death. I'm scared that I will die too soon, before I've made my difference in the world. I am scared that I won't go to a good college and will end up at the local community college where all the work that I've done to get where I am will be worthless, as they start everyone out in pre-algebra when I've taken calculus. I am scared that I will never find the person that I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and I'm scared that the boy I'm with won't be him. I'm afraid of not traveling the world and not getting a good job. Frightened of letting my family down, and afraid that my sister will turn to drugs, alchohol, suicide, or running away because her mother won't listen to what she has to say about her step-father. I'm scared that I will lose more of my young family members before I have a chance to get closer. I'm frightened that I don't believe enough in Christ, and that I'm letting my peers test and weaken my beliefs. I'm scared I will end up like my father, or my step-mother.

I've been thinking about her again. It's been over a month since Cassie died and people are still commenting her daily on myspace.com. Everybody loved her. I loved her. She was one of my best friends. I remember climbing trees with her when we were five or six. I would tell her my secrets, but sometimes she couldn't hear me because she was born with a mishapen, faulty ear. So she would whisper to me "Pst! Wrong ear!" Even when we were sixteen (well, when I was sixteen, she was fifteen) she would come over to my house and we would sleep outside under the stars and talk about the things we never told anyone else.
She always slept so hard, I remember. I was braiding her hair one night when we were in middle school, trying to pull an all-nighter. Her sister was there, and so was mine. I was braiding her hair into the little braids all over her head, like cornrows, but not French-braided. We were sitting on my bed (the top bunk of a bunk bed) and she was supposed to sleep on the floor. Well, she fell asleep on top of me, and we had to push her to the side so I could get off. That lucky girl stole my bed that night!
We rode our bikes to WalMart once, going shopping for bathing suits. We both ended up giggling uncontrolably in the fitting rooms. You see, because I am so well endowed, I cannot wear two pieces. The biggest size will not fit... So I tried on this bikini, and started cracking up. Cassie, of course, wanted to know what was funny, so I let her into my fitting room. She unabashedly began laughing at me too.
The last time I saw her, she had just bought her new car, just gotten her liscense. We went to a movie and afterwards drove around to various places in the town my father lives in. We stayed out until one in the morning, about the time her parents started calling us. We were punished severely. She and I fought about punishment, because I thought hers was too lax, and she had never told us about the curfew that we were supposed to have. She apologized, and we started talking again. I never saw her after that night, even though I was at my dad's house right after Christmas.
I hate not having her a phone call, or an instant message away. There are so many things I never got to tell her, so many secrets I have not shared. My best friend is gone, and I cannot morally find her. I miss her so much.