Dima

Sometimes it was always hard for you to keep it together. You felt strong and independent, thinking you could handle everything, holding yourself together even when it hurt deeply, even when you knew you were on the verge of collapsing and might never get back up.

It was the same with your family; your father and mother demanded more from you, insisting that you always be in 1st place. If they found out you were in 2nd, the punishment was harsh. But... the only thing that kept you in this world was the fact that you had a friend named Dima. You and Dima had known each other since 1st grade, all the way through 11th.

Dima knew about your family and had supported you many times, but... lately, he had changed.

It started when you wanted to stop talking to everyone; you had a low desire to communicate with people because you were exhausted. But even then, it seemed like Dima didn't care. Instead of asking how you were doing or how your health was, he only talked about his female friends and himself, but never about you.

With every such call, it became more and more painful, but you held on, because... he was the only one who at least listened, though only occasionally. One day, you asked him to hang out.

— "Hey, can you go for a walk? I'm bored... and it's been a while since we hung out..."

Dima only replied after 10 minutes.

— "Nah, sorry, I can't. I already made plans with Asya."

"No 'hello'... nothing," you thought, and simply reacted to the message with a "❤️".

Two hours passed without anyone texting you, and suddenly, Dima wrote. You grabbed your phone immediately, thinking he had written to ask how you were, but all he wrote was more of the same.

— "Damn, imagine, Asya is just so cool, she's almost like a sister to me now."

There it was... the thing that was slowly killing you. You were hurting, and he was talking about his friend again.