Journal

My journal is my best friend because I tell her my secret thoughts and hopes and dreams that I've never told anyone else before.  And of course, I'm her best friend because she reveals herself only to me.  She's a loner that way.  But if she ever interacts with anyone else, I would cry and jump off a cliff.  There's some seriously embarrassing and even incriminating things that my journal knows about me.

So I did what any logical person would do.  I burned my journal.

My mother screamed as I shredded the pages of my best friend into the smoking grill.  It wasn't too painful, tearing apart my only confidant that I've shared laughs and tears with over the last two years.  I've had other best friends before, and I've gone through this same exact ritual.  But this was the first time my mother has caught me in the act.

Her eyes were wild with panic.  "What are you doing?"  

I couldn't let her ruin my best friend's death, so I continued tearing pages as I stepped in front of the watering can. The flame grew as I finished up, and I smiled with satisfaction as my mother stared in wonder and fear.

For her sake, I should keep to inanimate best friends.