Track #1: All of me (John Legend)

I once had a best friend. A real best friend. A kind of kindergarden 'til forever best friend. She was there since I can think. We grew up together. Same kindergarden, same school, same class. Partners in crime, kind of. Our parents did barbecues together, our sisters were the same age, played together. There was nothing that could come between us. As we got older (probably 11), we found out that we liked the same boy. But it wasn't a problem. He wasn't a problem. But what she did for him was a problem.

She seemed to get obsessed with the thought of pleasing him. So she changed. Started to dress like the other girls. Started to speak like them. Act like them. I call it "getting mainstream". I couldn't understand why she did all that stuff. Why she started changing. Why she wanted to be like the others so much. We had us, why change that? But her wish to be cool was more important to her than me. She stopped talking to me, Started ignoring me. Because to the other ones I seemed to be strange. Isn't it cool to stop talking to your oldest and best friend? For one probably, for another not. Being shut out from your class, from a community is not cool. No one talking to you hurts. But your best and oldest friend letting you down breaks your heart - no matter which age you have. But when you're 12, it destroys you. Suddenly you're lonely. You don't have anyone you can talk to. You can't eat and you don't want to go to school.

According to her own words it wasn't that easy for her too. Ignoring me and not talking to me. Breaking me wasn't obviously no problem. She knows that she made a mistake, but hurting and breaking me was part of the price she payed for being part of "the other ones". Of the cool ones. The great ones. What an awesome awful performance to be proud.
Two years later I could finally leave behind this class and her. At our final day, lots of girls cried because they wouldn't see their friends that often again. I cried too. But not because I was sad. Because I was relieved and happy of never seeing her again.

She knows until today that she made a mistake. Because whenever she meets me, she never knows how to act and react around me. And that gives me kind of satisfaction. Because I am not a victim. I don't have to live with the fault of hurting someone that much. I was 12 then, now I'm 19. I'm okay.