"I'm always right" was what I always told her
The first time we went to a party, full of drunk adolescents
playing with the idea of adulthood,
I said nothing would go wrong,
I was always right.
We ran through the trees when the sirens sounded.
I gushed to her about a boy who was handsome and perfect and such a gentlemen,
She frowned and sighed
"He's no good for you, he'll hurt you" she said.
I waved her off, irritated that she couldn't see it.
She held me six months later as I bawled on her floor,
Showing off bruise that were scattered on my skin
like butterflies and told her about the other girls.
I giggled while balancing a joint between my fingers, unable to focus on her face
"It'll only be this once," I insisted, "It won't become an addiction."
By junior year I was still smoking.
She fretted over me during my dizzying spirals of depression,
I told her
"It's just a bad day, I'm just in a phase."
As I sat in her bathtub as she carefully bandaged my arms,
I whispered "You're always right."
I watched as my best friend began to cry for the first time in ten years.