Maybe it was just the friends I picked.

     When I was in San Antonio some 15 years ago, in 1980 through 1984, I used to hang around Brad, the son of one of my mom's good friends. I still remember us playing with Legos, and I even remember me making him play House because that is what bossy little girls do. This, in turn and little to my knowledge, entitled him to make me play War and G.I. Joe and other "icky-cootie-boy" games. We always promised to each other that we would be friends for the rest of our lives, no matter what happened.

     Promises are meant to be broken.

     Later in 1984, my daddy told me I was no longer going to be able to play with Brad. His job was making us move to a  far away land. This was not entirely new to me; daddy was always going on "trips" for the military, but only for a month at the most and mommy and I never went with him. This whole "going with dad" was a little new to me, however. This trip was for 3 years, which to a child of 5, might as well be the rest of their life.
     I cried. I protested. I sulked. We moved despite what I did to stay with Brad, my so-called friend for life. I even went to the extent of threatening to run away. I told my dad I hated him and I never wanted to see him again. I even had my little handkerchief stuffed with toys and a blanket like in the old Charlie Brown cartoons, ready to go.
     I never ran away.
     I was obviously too young to know about letter-writing and keeping in touch. Brad and I went our separate ways for 12 years and we were reunited later, but those lost years took their toll on our friendship.

     Niederprüm, Germany; 1984. After the traumatic experience of the Frankfurt Airport, I never wanted to see, much less ride in another airplane ever again. There in the airport we met the Harvey's, and I totally forgot about Brad. Brad? Brad who?
     The Harvey's youngest son, Beau, was about my age, which was 6, was the first person I met. I called him Bozer because it sounded less formal. We became inseparable, like Siamese Twins. This friendship accumulated for almost 4 years, and then tragedy struck.
     Bozer died December 22, 1988 of unexplainable internal bleeding and a final temperature of 107º. The doctor told us he would not come in to help because "it wasn't his shift yet." I hated that doctor for that. I still do.
     December 22, 1988, 3:29:34 was the time Bozer had left me forever. The second of many friends to do so.
     I did (eventually) get over Beau's death, but I promised myself I would never get close to anyone ever again.

     Promises are meant to be broken.

     In 1989, I moved to Great Falls, Montana. The Land of Nobody. It's a beautiful state, but I wouldn't want to live there again. I met Lori there. I was playing in my backyard on my Slip-n-Slide when this blonde haired girl came and introduced herself to me. We became really good friends and were hardly seen without one another. Starting to sound familiar?
     She "used" me all the time to do things for her. I did her homework because I was always better in school. I did her hair and make-up because I was always better at that too. She dropped my friendship when she met Nikki... whom I hated... er... disliked for more than just that reason. When Lori got into an argument with Nikki, I was the first person she ran back to. When her and Nikki made up, I was once again disposed of. This would happen over and over again and I would fall for it each time, consistently breaking the promise to myself.
     I did come to my senses and stopped hanging around Lori so much.
     Later, when I went to high school I met a girl named Erin. She was "cool" and she "hung out" with all the people in the "cool" crowd. This is where I got into some trouble.
     It was a bad crowd. I got mixed into drugs. Don't get me wrong, I never did them, but I was constantly around them. For some strange reason they have this funky effect on people and they make them lose their brains and common sense. The brain falls out and makes them do stupid things.      My grades fell drastically. Mom said it was because I was making adjustments to a new school and the thought of being a Freshman in High School. Yeah, adjustments. Adjustments bigger than she could have ever imagined. Erin moved away later and I would watch my new "friends" and how stupid they acted when they were stoned and high off various drugs. One promise I did keep to myself: I would never get caught up in garbage like that again. This whole incident had taught me a lot and proved useful in later years.
     But times moved on and so did I...

     I moved back to San Antonio in 1992 and through Theater I met Denise, Eve, and Ralph. We all became the best of friends. When they worked at Slave World... er.... Sea World (I was still too young to work) they would call me up whenever they all got off, whether it was 1:00 AM or not, and ask if I wanted to go to TC's (Taco Cabana). I would show up in sweat pants, a t-shirt, and fuzzy cow slippers.
     Denise taught me how to drive. Ralph taught me how to drive recklessly. Eve taught me about Anarchy. Aaaaah the times we had.
     Over Christmas break of 1994, Eve stayed at my house because her dad kicked her out of his house in Hondo; he had found drugs in her truck. This was not the first time I had encountered this sort of problem with her, and naturally I went ballistic. I told her that if I ever found drugs in my house, I would do the same thing here dad did, only quicker. To my knowledge, she obeyed my wishes.
     The day she left my house to live with her mom in Corpus, she was arrested for assault and armed robbery. She and a druggie friend tried to rob a lady on North St. Mary's street and had gotten caught. At first I thought she was dead because she never called me as she said she was going to once she got to Corpus. I was freaking out. She called me some 6 days later telling me she was in jail. I was happy she wasn't dead, for I would never have been able to take that again. When she did call me, she tried to apologize for what she had done, but I was so disappointed in her, I hung up. She had robbed that lady for money so she and her friend could have some acid for the trip to Corpus.

     Ultimate devastation. I tried to help her. I failed.

     While all that was happening, Denise was starting to get involved with gangs and it got so bad that one day, one of the gangster girls called my house and told me they were going to kill me if I didn't tell them where she was. I decided I didn't need to be put in that position anymore. I tried to knock some sense into Denise's head, but she wouldn't listen to me. She kept skipping school, she never returned any of my calls, she even changed her telephone and pager numbers. I was told by her mom it was for her protection, but if she wanted to stay in contact, she would have called me back. She never did. In fact, my phone number is STILL the same as when we used to talk all the time. She still hasn't called me. I never found out what I did wrong.
     I saw her a few times over the summer because she briefly worked in my store, but she quit as soon as she saw that I worked there. What did I do that was so wrong?
     Now I only see her here and there. The last I had heard, her and Eve were both living together and going to San Antonio College and both were majoring in Mortuary Science.

     To this day, Ralph and I joke about them, but deep inside it still hurts me a lot. I know it hurts him, too. Now I believe I am a much wiser person, at least in the friendship area if not anything else. I hope this never happens again.

     Friends have come and gone. Some things have stayed with me forever. Mommy had them backwards.

     Friendships are meant to be broken.