There was a sense of comfort but somewhere along the line it slipped away. We cried, laughed, and sang together but somewhere along the line it changed. What changed? We can shake this feeling so we thought. Annoyance became normal, here came frustration and eye rolls. Was this really just a feeling? Comfort and love They felt like a breath of fresh air, Searching for some feeling, it was created for us. But suddenly we couldn’t breathe, smothered with fake love Was this really comforting? They changed. My poem "Comfort" is told from a personal experience. I let my thoughts out onto paper as I describe the end of friendships. After the death of my best friend I confided in a group of mutual friends of her. For weeks following the trauma we did everything together, but eventually it felt more like a trend to continue hanging out. For those first few weeks it was comforting, but eventually it no longer was. There was drama within the group and even though I had nothing to do with it, it became draining. I took a break from the friend group for a while. I came to the realization that I am going through the stages of grief and was feeling guilty that I was having a good time with them even though Marayah had passed not long before. The poem can be interpreted in any way.

Three-quarters into our first year of High School, Marayah Zuniga was diagnosed with Stage IV Rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare childhood Cancer. Instead of finishing the year, she had no choice but to move to Memphis to receive the best possible treatment at St. Judes Hospital. I was unaware that it was my introduction to the five stages of grief. I experienced both denial and bargaining at once. Although I cried because Marayh was leaving and sick, I convinced myself she would be okay and believed she would only be gone for one year. I’d ease my worries by reminding myself why she was there; to receive the best treatment possible. Treatment would work then, she would come home, and everything would return to normal. I remained hopeful as I failed to comprehend the severity of her sickness. While receiving treatment, she would update me about the rollercoaster she was on and couldn’t get off. A year and a few months into treatment, she was given a maximum of two months to live. The year she left was a disaster in itself. I blamed COVID-19 for taking everything away, including flights. I grew angry and hadn’t seen Marayah in over a year when hearing that her life would be over at any given moment. That same week I flew out to visit her. Just days before I arrived, she had undergone brain surgery, yet she was up and walking around, talking, joking, and smiling like normal. It felt as though we were back in the summer of 8th grade, deciding what we’d do next. She showed me the true definition of strength and was much stronger than I was. At the end of the visit, the goodbye was painful. Thoughts of those moments being my last with my best friend circled through my head. Fortunately, she survived those two months, and her scans cleared she would be home for good after finishing her last rounds of treatment. My anger faded as hope returned because the past year had finally started to pay off. By mid-October, her messages got shorter, her cancer returned, and eventually, her responses stopped. On October 21, I was in the cafeteria at school when I received the news that Marayah was in a coma. My world changed forever on October 23, 2021. My best friend of five years was no longer living. I sat in my bedroom crying for days. I grew depressed, causing my school attendance to fall. It wasn’t until my grades started to slip that I recognized the effect of my mental state. I sat and thought about her goals and knew she left wanting nothing but the best for us down here. I was capable of maintaining my grades while trying to keep the motivation to remain present at school every day. It became a burden, a place I had to see others laughing and enjoying the company of friends. I pulled through the rest of Junior year, still depressed, with mostly A’s. Which leads me to today, where I often look at best friends with envy and reminisce on the person I lost without a say or a choice. Nevertheless, I am approaching acceptance. Learning to accept that my best friend is gone while appreciating our memories has created the strength I’ll walk the stage with on graduation day. I will carry her in my heart as I enter the next chapter for both of us. While her chances got ripped from under her, I will do everything manageable to succeed in her honor.