I Fucking Miss You, My Friend.

When I was 11 years old I had a best friend. He had a great personality. He fought for his own opinion, he always laughed, he helped other people, and he was never angry. He was a great friend. A friend that everyone needs.
On a day we had lesson about animals. You had to imitite an animal and the others had to guess what it was. After we had done that, my friend had a lot of pain in his hip. He started to cry. When he got home, he told his parents that he had pain. He also told that it hurted because we played that game in school. But when I went to school the next day, he wasn't there. I started thinking about what was wrong. What happened? My teacher told that my friend had been to the hospital. They made pictures of his body there. The doctors told my friend that he had cancer in his bone. I don't remember how I felt that moment, but I cried the whole day. If he had cancer, he would die. That sentence was in my thoughts.
When my friend wasn't in the hospital, I went to his house. We played games, told secrets to each other and talked about school. It felt good, it felt like he wasn't sick. His mother told me that my friend loved it when I was sitting next to him. She said he enjoyed it.
But the good things changed. He felt really sick again and I saw him and his parents in the car. I knew it. They went to the hospital again. I waved to him and my friend waved back. But his big brown eyes looked sad.
When it was Christmas 2008, I saw his parents again. I ran to the car. With a big smile on my face I asked how my friend was doing. They told me that he died in the hospital. My whole world was turning upside down. I ran home and cried on my bed for the rest of the day.
A few days later was the funeral. The church was full of people who knew my friend. They filmed the funeral so that I could watched in another room. After the funeral I was really upset. Why was the church full of people? I hated the people who were sitting in the church. When I think about that, I feel really selfish. I wasn't the only one who loved him. Lots of people loved him.
And now it's 2012. A few days ago I saw a movie in the cinema about a girl with cancer. She died when she felt better. After I had seen the movie, I thought of my friend. How he died, how he looked. I cried every night, because I looked at the picture of him. The picture is standing next to my bed. I have written this because I thought I would feel better. It helped a little. Deep inside my heart hurts. There is a missing piece in there. It sounds pathetic, I know. But it's hard to lose someone. And I lost someone who always smiled, even though he was sick. I lost someone who was fighting for his life, but lost the battle. I lost someone who was 11 years old. I lost someone who could have a beautiful life. Moving on is really hard, but one day I will be happy again. Then I will remember how beautiful he was. Then I will think of the beautiful memories.

R.I.P My best friend <3

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