Esme's Troubles: A Short story with my two new OCs.

Instructions

My name is Esmerelda. I’m fifteen years old. Citrine and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. We actually met in elementary school when I was sitting alone at lunch. I opened my lunch box at the table in the back corner, dubbed the ‘outcast corner’. That was where I always sat. My short auburn hair was tied up in low pigtails, and my emerald green eyes were staring down at my half-empty lunchbox. My mom had forgotten to pack my lunch again, as usual. Citrine was the ‘Dream Kid’ to hang out with. With long blonde hair always tied in braids, sapphire blue eyes, and an overall pleasant demeanor, she was the golden child. So, when she noticed me sitting alone, she walked up to me and sat right next to me, opening her lunchbox and giving me half of her sandwich. After that day, Citrine asked her mother to pack her extra things, which she gave to me. No one can remember a time that the two of us were separated, ever since that day. Which is why it came as a surprise that seven years later, when we were in high school, Citrine lashed out at me. It came suddenly, while we were walking home together. At first, the argument was about boys, and it was a lighthearted argument. But soon, it escalated to a height that neither of us knew we could reach. "Esmerelda, cold as always!" Citrine teased, laughing. "Citrine, that's not funny..." I said, trying to contain my anger. That's when Citrine snapped at me. “Why are you so cold?" Citrine exclaimed angrily, tears streaming down her face. “You are always cold, just so cold, and isolated all the time! Not to mention calloused! I have been trying. I've been trying for years to help you, but I just can’t do it anymore!” Citrine yelled out. “Then why try, Citrine?" I retorted, unemotionally. “Why try to fix me when it’s clear I can’t be fixed?” “Because! I care about you, Esme. I have always cared.” Citrine responded, her voice breaking. “But you don’t seem to care about me. You’ve never cared at all.” My eyes widened. Tears started to form on the corners of my emerald green eyes. “You don’t know how hard it is for me, Citrine." I replied softly, my voice shaking. “Hard for you?” Citrine asked angrily. “I have been trying my best to help you, and you’ve never seemed to care!” Citrine shouted angrily, clenching her hands into fists. I don't remember what it was that made me lose my cool, but hearing those words, I snapped. “Well, what if I don't mean to treat you this way?” I cried out, sounding betrayed. “What if the reason I seem so cold, isolated, and callous, as you put it, is because I don’t know what the heck I am feeling? There. I said it. I can’t tell what I’m feeling. I can’t tell when I feel happy, sad, or angry; I’ve just had to fake it this whole time! I want to open up, but... I want to know what’s wrong with me before I tell anyone else.” I said, her emerald eyes filled with tears. “Esme… I never knew." I cut Citrine off. “Of course you didn’t know! Don’t blame yourself for my problems!” She screamed, tears streaming down her pale face. Citrine’s face softened. “Oh, Esme… Come here.” Citrine had never been much of a hugger. But right then and there, she wrapped her atoms around me, as if to say that everything was alright. That was when I lost it. The floodgates opened, and everything I had been holding back just flowed out. I was sobbing. I could feel this pain in my heart, something I had never felt before, and... I could feel tightness in my chest as I sobbed. I was crying for a solid five minutes before I finally stopped, my breathing ragged. I finally felt this sense of calm. Though I broke my promise of not letting anyone know that there was something wrong with me, I’m glad I told Citrine. Because she asked me a couple more questions and referred me to a therapist and a psychiatrist. I got evaluated as soon as I could. It turns out that what I was feeling was completely normal. There was nothing wrong with me that couldn’t be explained by three diagnoses. ADHD, anxiety, and autism. These things can often go undiagnosed in teenagers, because the criteria is often for younger kids, and there’s less evaluators for older kids and adults than there are for children. I learned that early on, when I found an eight month wait for an evaluation. Citrine stayed by my side that whole time, and didn’t even change her behavior towards me when I got diagnosed. Truly, Citrine is the best friend that I could have ever asked for.