I'm sad to say my night didn't get better. 

I stood outside for several minutes, numbly. After years of fantasizing, facing reality was incomprehensible. Jamie and I's bond was so strange, so strong. Yet as the physical and emotional distance grew, I could feel our relationship stretching and straining thin, like a rubber band that had never been pulled. And I knew it was only a matter of time before we snapped. How I'd cope with that, I had no idea.

By the time my frozen fingers reached for the doorknob, my mind was beginning to thaw and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself on my bed and sob. That was when I realized my parents had locked me outside by mistake.

I didn't want them to see me like this. They'd surely ask questions I was at no inclination to answer. I wasn't ready for them to know about this ripple, not until I was certain it was serious.

I knew ringing the door was a no go, so I decided to try the back door, which was always open. However, getting to that point required going through my backyard and braving the loud, feral chihuahua named Pinky Pie that belonged to our hippie neighbors. She packed a lot of bark in such a small frame, and it was bound to get my parents, attention.

Still, what choice did I have?

I tried to open our squeaky fence door quietly, which, needless to say, was a futile attempt. It screamed more obnoxiously than I had ever recalled. But I didn't hear Pinky Pie, which I took as an accomplishment.

I was midway through tiptoeing across our damp grass to the door when I heard it. A low growling. And because it was pitch black outside, the sound was even more menacing.

At that moment, such a colorful array of curse words went through my head that my profanity would have supported gay rights. We had told our neighbors a million times to fix the freaking hole in their fences, but did they fix it? No, because it had "character."

I put a hand out, and whispered through gritted teeth, "Down, girl... just let me get to my house... please."

She must have sensed the desperation in my voice because what she did surprised us both...

The devil bit me.

I screamed and she barked and the lights turned on and my parents rushed out and it was a huge disaster and I just wanted the whole night to be over.

I was a sobbing, sniffling mess by the time my parents ushered me into the house, shooting me with questions on rapid fire mode, but I couldn't answer. I just pushed past them, ignoring my bleeding hand, and rushed into my room.

By the time I got to my bed, I was nothing. I felt like with each tear I disintegrated even more.

For the first time since eighth grade, I went to bed uncertain of where Jamie and I stood. Although I always wanted more, the one certainty I constantly clung to was that he was always, irrevocably my friend.

If this is what speaking your mind got you, I never wanted to utter a single word again.