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Description
Becky and I met about four years ago online in a chat room. It was full of teenage girls like us, but still we found each other. It began with small talk but soon proved to be something deeper. We became friends and started to talk on a daily basis. A few month after our first "Hello" I found out just how important she had become to me. We lost our access to the Internet for a few days and I was seriously going crazy. All my thoughts revolved around Becky and the things I wanted to tell her. She got a real long e-mail when I was able to go online again. It was then that I realised she had become my best and closest friend.

Naturally, my parents started to worry. The Internet is suspicious to them, and so is everyone you get to meet there. When Becky said her parents were concerned, too, we set up a meeting. She and her family took on the five hour car ride to stay with my family for a weekend. Miraculously our parents got along fine and mine liked Becky just as much as hers liked me. Moreover was it great to be able to really talk to my best friend – so much better than chatting online. After the weekend our parents agreed to let us meet once a month. I would visit her and she would visit me in return. We would go by train because our parents couldn't afford to always drive us.

Thus, years passed and we grew older, but the bond between us stayed the same. The time came when we were able to drive ourselves to visit the other, but we stuck to the monthly meetings. We still had the Internet and the occasional phone call and that was enough, I thought. We were so used to it.

Then, last week, Becky didn't turn up online all day. That might not sound bad to you, but it had never happened before, so I started to worry. At first I thought that maybe something was wrong with their Internet connection or telephone line. After two days of not hearing anything from her, I took up the phone and called. It was her mother who answered and told me what had happened. I passed the phone on to my dad, packed a few things and drove the five hour trip in four and a half. Still, I didn't make it in time to see her, so I slept at her parent's house to accompany them to the clinic the next day.

I didn't sleep much that night, and just like before alone in my car I wondered how it could have come to this. I had seen her in T-shirts and shorts so often, saw her smile and laugh and be happy. I never noticed any scars, neither on the outside nor on the inside. Nevertheless she had had to be institutionalised for seriously hurting herself. She had this problem for years, they say.

When I stood before her that day at the clinic, she knew exactly what I thought and felt. She put her hand onto my cheek and looked deep into my tear-filled eyes. Her words are carved into my heart forever:
“Honey,” she said, “the Internet is nothing. What we say there doesn't mean a thing. A whole human character doesn't fit on the screen. And we only met once a month. 36 days out of 365. Those were snapshots, nothing more. I always smile for the camera. It's easy to pretend for such a short time. It's not your fault you didn't know, it was my choice.”

My view of the world was shattered that day. I guess it was only a snapshot anyway. I don't know what I'll do now, how I should see the world now. Becky gets help at the clinic, she is recovering and we talk a lot. Honest talk this time. But me? My life was reduced to a photo album filled with snapshots. I guess I'll try to make a nice collage out of them. And the rest of my life will become a work of art. Real art, a painting or something. Yes, that's what it should be like.

Description
Becky and I met about four years ago online in a chat room. It was full of teenage girls like us, but still we found each other. It began with small talk but soon proved to be something deeper. We became friends and started to talk on a daily basis. A few month after our first "Hello" I found out just how important she had become to me. We lost our access to the Internet for a few days and I was seriously going crazy. All my thoughts revolved around Becky and the things I wanted to tell her. She got a real long e-mail when I was able to go online again. It was then that I realised she had become my best and closest friend.

Naturally, my parents started to worry. The Internet is suspicious to them, and so is everyone you get to meet there. When Becky said her parents were concerned, too, we set up a meeting. She and her family took on the five hour car ride to stay with my family for a weekend. Miraculously our parents got along fine and mine liked Becky just as much as hers liked me. Moreover was it great to be able to really talk to my best friend – so much better than chatting online. After the weekend our parents agreed to let us meet once a month. I would visit her and she would visit me in return. We would go by train because our parents couldn't afford to always drive us.

Thus, years passed and we grew older, but the bond between us stayed the same. The time came when we were able to drive ourselves to visit the other, but we stuck to the monthly meetings. We still had the Internet and the occasional phone call and that was enough, I thought. We were so used to it.

Then, last week, Becky didn't turn up online all day. That might not sound bad to you, but it had never happened before, so I started to worry. At first I thought that maybe something was wrong with their Internet connection or telephone line. After two days of not hearing anything from her, I took up the phone and called. It was her mother who answered and told me what had happened. I passed the phone on to my dad, packed a few things and drove the five hour trip in four and a half. Still, I didn't make it in time to see her, so I slept at her parent's house to accompany them to the clinic the next day.

I didn't sleep much that night, and just like before alone in my car I wondered how it could have come to this. I had seen her in T-shirts and shorts so often, saw her smile and laugh and be happy. I never noticed any scars, neither on the outside nor on the inside. Nevertheless she had had to be institutionalised for seriously hurting herself. She had this problem for years, they say.

When I stood before her that day at the clinic, she knew exactly what I thought and felt. She put her hand onto my cheek and looked deep into my tear-filled eyes. Her words are carved into my heart forever:
“Honey,” she said, “the Internet is nothing. What we say there doesn't mean a thing. A whole human character doesn't fit on the screen. And we only met once a month. 36 days out of 365. Those were snapshots, nothing more. I always smile for the camera. It's easy to pretend for such a short time. It's not your fault you didn't know, it was my choice.”

My view of the world was shattered that day. I guess it was only a snapshot anyway. I don't know what I'll do now, how I should see the world now. Becky gets help at the clinic, she is recovering and we talk a lot. Honest talk this time. But me? My life was reduced to a photo album filled with snapshots. I guess I'll try to make a nice collage out of them. And the rest of my life will become a work of art. Real art, a painting or something. Yes, that's what it should be like.