She was the type of girl who couldn't decide on anything. Once, our moms took us shopping and she couldn't decide on anything and asked me to decide for her in the end on which dress to buy. Also, there was the time she and I went to get ice cream; the huge flavors board almost gave her a heart attack. I know she hates it, she hates just about everything about herself.

That may be the worst thing about her. Doesn't it ever bother anybody when they have a best friend that has so little self confidence and hes almost no self-esteem. Why doesn't she know that not only is she an amazing girl on the inside, but the outside too! I remember the time we went to the beach. She was wearing a bikini (after her mom and I tried for two years to convince her that she is NOT fat) and her hair looked wavy after being at the beach all day. It was around sunset and the peachy glow of the sun shimmered against her ivory, sunscreen-coated skin. Even I could tell many of the guys on the beach stopped to stare at the beautiful goddess I'm lucky to call my best friend.

My best friend. The girl in school who has clip-in hair extensions, different colors each time. The girl who would wear a dress to school and when others question it say to them, "Because I wanted to feel beautiful." She would go to school wearing high heels because she knew she wanted to kiss the guy she liked on the cheek if he said yes when she asked him out, but she was extremely short.

She still is short, way shorter than me. When I hug her my head rests perfectly on top of her head. I love how when I hug her she would always squeeze tight then I'd pick her up and spin her around, because it makes her laugh. God I love her laugh. It's the kind of laugh that when you hear it you can tell it's not one of those fake giggle laughs that other girls use purposely for attention. No sir her's is one hundred percent genuine happiness. She always looks best when she's laughing, smiling, making silly faces, or just plain happy. When she's sad it's another story.

Now, my best friend is the kind of girl who will spill out all her problems to you in about a three to four hour period. Then you'll need to hold her and let her cry into your shirt because when she is upset that's all you want to do. Her eyes are drowning in her tears and when looking at her eyes you can see that sadness she's expressing to you. Her high cheekbones get red and puffy, soaked with tears. When she's sad she even looks weak. She looks like she can't hold her shoulders up. I can't help but think it's because she's carrying all her problems until she explodes in the middle of my bedroom falling to the floor with her head in her hands saying she's sorry, saying she's sorry for crying. Saying she's sorry for needing a friend.

Is it alright if I automatically swoop down to her tiny frame and I take her in my arms as if they are the only thing that can make her pain and fears go away? Is it alright that I need to make her problems go away to see her beautiful smile? I wish I could do that in the sixth grade. In the sixth grade everything when down hill.

In sixth grade her father and her mother started fighting, a lot. They started fighting mainly about her. Her grades, friends, liberties, and how she dresses! Her mother was the one who let her be herself and have creative freedom, within reason. Her father on the other hand, he tells her she needs higher grads, needs to dress more professionally, needs to be more mature, and she needs to be under the radar. I think I made it clear that she is the kind of person who does what she wants and doesn't care what others think. Although, it is rather hard to ignore your father's opinions.

Pretty soon the fights got worse. Her father was yelling at her mother so loud and doing the unthinkable one night she snuck out of her house and ran all the way to mine. She called me, as to not wake up my mother but my mother was in my room about to turn my television off and I was asleep. She answered the phone and the first thing she heard was, "Anthony, I need you to let me in. I'm so mad my parents have been fighting all week and I can't take it! Please let me in I can't stay there tonight!" my mom was so shocked she ran downstairs, threw the front door open and took the frightened girl into her arms.

My mother is the kind of woman who OBSESSES over my best friend. She makes her these AMAZING cakes on her birthday, buys her gifts, lets her sleep over (as long as the door is open,) and she even helped her mom give her "the talk." Our parents have been friends throughout their high school years. That night, to see her god daughter on her doorstep with a puffy face and tear filled hazel eyes made her cry.

That night was the toddler running into the dominoes pushing the rest down. After that night me and our mothers were the only ones she trusted. She was distant in school and only talked to me. The teachers and the administrators got worried for her. I was called down to guidance and they talked to me and I told them her parents have been fightin. They said they'll bring her in and I said I wanted to be there. My argument being I'm her best friend and she leans on me for her support.

After our little group meeting we talked to her mom and she said her and her father were just total opposites now and she's been thinking of divorce. She also explained she has been lead to believe he is cheating on her. This all ended with me and my mom consoling the sobbing women. I hate to see either of them upset so I do what is right. I take the smaller Italian out to ice cream while to mother's go shopping. Her favorite flavor is chocolate. I cant help but think what kisses must feel like when her lips are cold and chocolatey. About to lean over and possibly make a move she suddenly bursts out, "Anthony, my dad's been cheating on her for so long! I came home early that day our track practice was canceled and I saw him with her! In their own room! He made me swear not to tell my mom because it would only make her sad. Anthony I'm afraid." That was the first time I learned about her dad's true self.

Ever since then I never let her go home alone. I was either there with her or she came to my place. Her mom even stayed at my house like twice. Then came the divorce. Her dad actually proclaimed it. He made it clear when he threw an orange envelope with the contract in it into our mailbox. That was the day my best friends world crashed down. This girl reads to many books. She seemed to think that a certain dangerous activity would be great to let pain out. Yes sir, my best friend started to cut herself. I didn't support her, nor did I judge her. As soon as I found out, two years after she started, I sat her down on my gray bed and I told her that I care about her too much to let her do this to herself. I told her she was my whole world and she should not tarnish beautiful skin with scars.

I made her lift her sleeve and I saw the Satan red slits on her perfect wrist. To my surprise a single tear dropped onto her arm. A tear that came from a blue eye instead of a hazel one. My blue eye. Seeing how upset this made me she hugged me crying promising she'd never do anything that stupid again and begging me for my forgiveness. I held her close to me, felt her heartbeat, and stroked her hair soothing her just by holding her.

When she finally stopped crying I was about to look down at her and tell her that she's still my very best friend when she interrupted by saying that she needs to say something but she's afraid. I assure her that she can tell me anything and she takes a deep breath. After letting her have a moment to get her words in order and settle her words in order, she looks at me and asks, "Will you be there for me forever?" I answer by telling her nothing can keep me from making her happy. After a few more tears and a lot more hugs we both fall asleep, after I take her shoes off of her because she fell asleep.

That night made me realize something. I was made to protect her. I have to protect her from harm, pain, stress, and anything else that can make her unhappy. Not only is she my best friend, but she's my life now. She needs me now more than she ever did before. Before she only needed me for little things, for example: learning how to skateboard, when she fell out of our tree, when she got detention I did too because the teacher she was with creeped her out, and whenever there is a spider in her house I kill it. I'll be there for her until I die trying.

Which brings me back to right now. Right now, I'm standing in my room trying to put on a tie when that one best friend who has been there for a long time and hopefully will be forever. Tonight is the night of our college graduation. Tonight is also the night I will get on one knee and ask that one special question. She and I were going out since the middle of the summer after our freshman year. She was always beautiful in the summer light. I think a summer wedding would suffice. That is, if she says yes. God she better say yes. I don't have a back up plan... or another pair of pants. Hopefully this decision wont take so long. I'll give her a year or two. I don't need to know right away. Said fair haired beauty struts into my room wearing the dress that took seven months to decide on (thank god our moms started looking early) and her hair done by the older women. She looked as beautiful as ever.

The ceremony went great. Nobody tripped and everybody passed! That's always a good thing! Now me and her were sitting in our favorite little cafe where the owner knows us by now and he also knows of my little one kneed question. After eating dessert and she was sipping water happily I grab her hand. She puts the water down and looks happily into my eyes. And so starts the speech.

"Angel, I've known you since you moved in down the block when you were four. We were always best friends and in the sixth grade I promised you I'd be there for you forever. Now I'm owning up to my promise not just because I promised you, but because I love you and will forever." I got down on my knee in front of her. She gasps in surprise as I pull out the elegant ring from my pocket. "Angelina Maria Carella, will you marry me?" Not expecting her to answer I begin to stand up as I try to tell her she has time to decide, but I'm met by an opposing force. It's a small Italian brunette tackling me with a hug screaming one word over and over again. Yes.