Tick. Tick. Tick.

I sat in my room, watching the clock move. The sound of the hand moving reverberated through my mind.

Tick. Tick. Tick

I squeezed my eyes shut, drowning it out.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

She would call me soon. I knew she would. We had just talked yesterday. We had just confirmed these plans yesterday. We’d been planning this for months. I checked my phone again.

Nothing.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I put it down again before picking it up quickly. My lock screen mocked me. It was a picture of us at homecoming, corsages we had bought each other on our wrists. I opened it quickly, only to wince at my homescreen, yet another picture of us. I looked at the last text I had sent her,

"Hey, what time should I head over?"

I sent that hours ago.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock seemed set on reminding me that she used to take only seconds to reply.

Frustrated, I called her. one ring. two rings. three rings. four. five. six. Voicemail.

I frowned but left a message anyway. We had been friends for years, practically inseparable. We had not only shared hopes and dreams, but demons and the battles we fought in the dark. Battles no one else knew about. Battles we knew would have killed us if it wasn't for the other’s support. I didn't understand. Why wouldn't she pick up her damn phone?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I glanced at the clock again. It was almost too late. If she didn't call me soon, we would miss the concert. She had the tickets. As I waited, my heart sinking, I couldn't help but relive the memories, hundreds of hours spent together.

Tick.

Running through a park after the sunset because we swore someone was chasing us.

Tick.

Flowers at her door because some boy broke her heart.

Tick.

A 3 A.M. call because neither of us could sleep

Tick.

Crying over coffee because I couldn't handle home. 

Tick.

An awkward double date.

Tick.

Taking pictures at sunrise.

Tick.

A sleepover

Tick.

Homecoming.

Tick.

Prom.

Tick.

A tear fell from my eye. I opened my phone again to check her location. The breath left my lungs as I saw that she driving to the concert. She had gone without me.

She had ghosted me.

It felt like I had been kicked in the gut. She knew me better than anyone. She knew how much this would hurt. She didn't care. Emotions swirled like a sandstorm in my mind, drowning out any coherent thoughts. Pain stabbed through my heart, blood pounding in my ears drowned out the ticking of the clock. One question swirled in my mind, over and over again, forming a symphony with the drumming in my head,

"Why?"

Like a tsunami, months worth of emotions erupted. I crumpled over on the cold floor, sobbing. I had never cried like that before; like I had everything to lose and yet nothing at the same time; like I was on the verge of dying. I cried like the world was ending, and maybe mine was.

I can't tell you how long I sat there after the flood stopped, my knees brought up to my chest, my breathing ragged and uneven. Maybe it was hours, maybe it was merely minutes. However long it was doesn't really matter. Nothing really matters when someone is drowning in a wave of abandonment, when you can’t help but wonder what is so wrong with you that someone could treat you so horribly and not bat an eye. Nothing matters when suddenly the only person who mattered, who cared about you disappears. 

Regardless of how long I sat there, when I opened my phone again, I saw she had posted a picture. She was at the concert. She had gone without me. She had gone without me and brought someone else. Through blurry eyes filled with tears, I peered at the faces on my screen. That was my replacement. This girl must have something I didn’t. Emotions began to swirl again and my mind dragged me down to a dark place, one where I had hoped I never had to visit again. I couldn’t help but drag myself over to the mirror and examine myself, wondering what about me wasn’t good enough. Was this new girl prettier than me? Or maybe she had more money… Or maybe in some way, she was fundamentally better than me… Maybe she had something I never would and could never hope to achieve. Maybe she was nicer, more caring, had more time and more space, or better advice. 

I let out a raw scream. This is a stupid thing to cry about, I told myself. A stupid thing. Other people go through much worse. People are dying. People are starving. It still hurts anyway. And so I stood there, motionless, looking back at myself in the cruel glass. Memories tried to flood to the surface again, tears rushing to my eyes with them. I pushed them down, struggling to convince myself that I did not care.

 She was just a girl. 

A girl who I had laughed with. A girl who I had cried with. A girl whose demons I knew as well as my own. A girl who planned the future with me at night when neither of us could sleep. A girl who didn’t share my blood, a girl who wasn’t family, but in all aspects and meanings of the word became my sister.

My breath hitched in my throat and I caught myself struggling to keep my composure. I glanced in the mirror again, laughing at the sight of my red-rimmed eyes. Despite all the questions, accusations, and confusion swirling in my mind, there were three things I knew that were true: 

1. I was done making excuses for her. 
2. She didn’t care about me anymore. 
3. I didn’t deserve to be treated like this. 

As I calmed down, the world around me came back into focus. The clock kept ticking and the world kept spinning. My world was not ending, it was simply changing, for the better or for the worse. Now, after months of her dodging my calls and canceling plans and me running around trying to figure out what I did wrong, I knew. I knew that it was over and I knew that I could move on. I glanced up at the clock, smiling as the hand continued moving, proof that I still had a life to live. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.