Personal Narrative: Idyllic Friendships

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A baby blue tempera sky paired with an over-easy egg yolk looms over beige, off-white and tan homes. Suburbia cooked at 105 degrees for decades results in delicious bourgeoisie casserole. Next to me lies an elementary and middle school, convenient for the child on the go. The friends I had all lived within two streets of me, and were white or asian. Due to this influence, I identify more strongly with these two ethnicities than my hispanic side. Strong connections formed between me and my friends, and I often spent more time at their houses than my own during the summer. People grow apart. Idyllic friendships can only last so long before popularity, interests and ideologies begin erecting walls between us. My best friend in grade school lived

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