Every now and again I would dream of one of my oldest friends coming to me, saying that what she claimed to have done was false, that she did it to make others think of her life as more interesting, to make us think she was real. That she thought she needed to impress me. I would comfort her, saying she did not need to, and we would become friends again. We would again talk, we would again play video games together. We would hug, and cry on each other's shoulders. I would no longer be lonely, for she'd be with me. I'd no longer be worried, for she would abandon those who are undesireable, those whom I do not trust. My other then-friend would join us, and I would not be jealous towards them when they spent time, for we'd be equal, and I'd feel joy. We'd all three go to the movies again, and I would be able to enjoy the film, not worrying about what they would do were I not there. ..but then, of course, I wake up. I see how things are, and I remember how I want them to be. It saddens me. If we had not grown as we had, or not at all, we might still be friends. But, no. I must watch her, every week, and see that she is fine without me, that her life continues uninterrupted without me in it. That she is not hurt by our lack of relationship proves that my dreams will not happen- What she claims to have done, she has done. It's a form of irony, I say, that while my memory is getting worse by every year, I still remember her, and things about her, and probably will for the rest of my life. Even if I'll be placed in an asylum, where I can't remember my own name, I would remember her.