Mia.
When I was in sixth grade, I met Mia. She was popular and stunning. Girls from all grades wanted to be her friend, including the high schoolers. Technically, I didn't meet her in school. I met her online, I don't remember the website. But, God, was she compelling. We would meet up every day after school, and at first she was very nice. She promised things I had only dreamed of. She had given me compainionship, loyalty, and she had given me popularity clear into high school. My parents did not like Mia. They forbid me from seeing her. She didn't like that at all. She was angry and vile, telling me that I was worthless without her, I would amount to nothing and drop off the popularity charts. My other friends were accepted by my parents, but I craved Mia. My heart called out to her. I cried myself to sleep at night, thinking of all the cruel things she had said to me. I didn't see her all through my sophomore year. The pain that came with it was unrelenting. The promises she had made were stuck in my head on repeat. Once my junior year came, my parents were more trusting. They stopped monitoring my calls, texts and internet history. I didn't visit my psychiatrist as much. I felt free again. I began to see Mia again. She welcomed me back with open arms, apologizing for all the insults she had once whispered, and promised everything would be alright. I would spend time with her more frequently, after breakfast, lunch, after school. Sometimes I would sneak to see her in the middle of the night. I became obsessed with her and she enjoyed every minute of it. I was still being speculated by my parents, but not enough for them to catch me. I was free to spend as much time with Mia as I would like. Senior year arrived and my grades began to plummet. I was sleeping in class and coming close to losing consciousness in the hallways. Mia helped me get through it every step of the way, and though I could tell she cared, it didn't help much. Soon enough I was taken to a doctor, and my visits with my psychiatrist became more frequent. I didn't tell anyone about my friendship with Mia in fear they would take her away yet again. The doctor put me on supplements in an attempt to help with the fatigue. They worked for a while but soon came the chest pains. Mia begged me to stay friends with her. My heart was too weak to tell her no. My parents began to observe me more often and it was harder to hide her, but I made promises as well as she did. I was never going to leave her. Or at least, I thought I wasn't. It's been two years since then. Mia and I aren't as close. I've been spending time with her sister more than her. The doctors told me that if I don't fix myself soon, there could be dire consequences. My heart gets weaker every day, but Mia and her sister are unrelenting. Today, Mia was vile with me. She told me I wasn't doing enough for her. She was angry with me for spending more time with her sister than with her. She missed the feeling of biting into food, she missed the aroma of a home cooked meal. She missed holding my hair as I was hunched over the toilet. She begged me to eat. The vicious cycle began all over again. But at least I have Mia.