To Whom It May Concern:

My friends and I are the world to one another. Sure we fight, but then again, when haven’t we? The best critics in the world have nothing on us. We squabble and bicker like the best of them. An outsider looking in would think we had major clique problems. But at the end of the day, what does the fighting matter? We’re the best of friends we put the claws away, (for the time being) and hang out like good pals. Sharing secrets. Giving mani-pedis, doing just plain girl things.

But, as they say, everything good must come to an end. The good times are long-gone and forgotten. The claws come back out. Words are flung around; girls choose their sides. Those left out are targeted as the next victims. Secrets are told. Tears are shed. Where are the people I thought I called my friends? Maybe I didn’t know them as well as I thought I did. So, for now I’ll just sit out my friends’ furry. Much like waiting for a storm to pass. It’ll give me time to about the madness surrounding whom I used to call my friends.

Yours in consideration,
Bee