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It’s been some time, she hasn’t come yet.

Although I am not exactly fond of her but, yeah, I mean, I can’t let her go. She is a long time acquaintance. Almost a bittersweet friend.

I met her first when I was in sixth grade. It was March 2015. The year before, when I was in 5th grade and a little naive for my age, my mother had acquainted me with the idea of making new friends as I grew up. Honestly, back then I was sufficiently happy with my two best friends, I didn’t need more on my plate.

Moreover, I was kind of an introvert. But surprisingly, she was more introverted than I was. She didn’t prefer me talking about her to others, except for her other friends. Or perhaps society didn’t prefer talking about her. And she was well aware of this fact. Earlier, I used to be hesitant about our friendship but by the time I reached eight grade, I was well over my reluctance. But since she hasn’t been visiting me as frequently as earlier, I have again gone quieter about our relationship. I am no more sure where we stand.

I vividly remember my mother saying “Some friends come unexpectedly in your life and remain there forever”. And my God did it happen exactly like that. Now, I know that she was bound to come into my life. It was a given, I couldn’t escape it.

At first, I was fascinated by her. She was beautiful. I assume most people don’t feel that way but I liked her. I liked that she made me feel different, just as different as she was. I guess by virtue of the fact that she was so close to me, her uniqueness rubbed on me. In fact, she behaved differently with everyone. All her acquaintances and friends (which she had plenty for an introvert ) described that they had a unique relationship with her. I think they just wanted to feel that they had something special with her. Just like I did. But despite that all, we could all sense the undertone of bitterness in our voices.

Her appearance was not entirely unexpected but still surprising. I was somewhat mentally prepared to have a permanent change in my life, thereafter. Even though the nature of the change frightened me, it didn’t completely shun my excitement. But that also took a dip in a few months, my excitement died and it was soon replaced by pain. But that also did not last long, I got over it. I have forgiven her for that. But I haven’t forgotten and I never will.

By the way, I forgot to mention her name.

It’s Crimson.

Beautiful, right? I thought the same when I first gave her this nickname. Reminds me of the color red. Although, I have never liked red, it just suits her so well that I can’t think of anything better.

At least once in our lives, all those who know her, must have felt that we would have been better off without her. But once she meets you, she must meet you again. Because only that ensures that everything remains alright. And she hasn’t met me for a long time.

And the only way I can meet her myself is through the pills.

I took them last year and then she came. But she was only here for a few months. And then she left again.

Now my mother will drag me to the hospital. Another course of three months. Loads of pills. A list of prescriptions and the constant taunts.

I wish Crimson would come by herself. Naturally.

Periods truly are something you hate to have but are scared to miss.

I hate Crimson but I miss her too. I wish she would come sooner.


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