Dear Diary! This is the first time I'm writing in you. I never thought I'd use you, but I have to today. I wanted to talk to you about someone named Maya.
There is no one at my home today except me, so I am left with you. I still vividly remember that first day of school. We were all talking about our vacation in class when suddenly someone knocked on the door. Everyone is looking at her, I'm in them, and there she's, standing by the door, scanning us with her big brown eyes; you can tell she's scared because she was rubbing the palms of her hands. When our eyes met, the first thought that came to my mind was' 'she has to be the one, my best friend. Though it was a crazy thought, I knew, and I felt it. She was picking a seat; surprisingly, she sat in the seat next to me.
"Hi," she said. I checked to make sure she talked to me because I was very excited then but calm.
"Hi," I answered. She smiled, and I looked at her and smiled. The teacher catches everyone's attention and asks the new student to introduce himself. Now she will introduce herself; I paid attention.
She stood up and said, "Hey everyone, my name is Maya."
It's been three years, and we've been friends. We became best friends through a piece of paper.
"You have been a good friend of mine, and I like you. I think we have a connection, best friend?" I was excited to read it. I answered. "Best friend," yes, I confirmed. And since then we have been best friends.
We don't have much in common, but somehow we just got along. I'm not going to say that our relationship is perfect; we break up to kiss and do makeup again, nothing serious, but one powerful word is "we." One of the many differences between us is our love for music. I think music understands me entirely like no one else, and it's easy to express my feelings, which she agrees; we like to use quotes from the lyrics and play our favorite songs on our MP3 player.
Maya has a problem; she has been here since a tough childhood. Most of her depression comes from there, and I can see that it's hard for her to get out of it. Every time I try my best to relieve her depression, I really do. I try my best to be patient with her so that she never feels alone.