Last christmas, I bought bracelets for my two best friends and I. They were beautiful; straight out of my favorite art museum in downtown Charlotte. The bracelets were handwoven and fair trade. When I brought them to my friends, we had a mock ceremony. All three making our wishes, we tied them on each other' wrists, sealing the most closely-knit friend group I'd ever had. There was a legend surrounding these bracelets. It said that if you made a wish while tying them on, then as they god frayed and fell off, your wis would come true. Our friendship dissolved halfway through the semester. I kept my bracelet on anyway--a reminder of love. I wished to find my true love. Recently, I've lost hope in the possibility of true love. First, I tore off the woman on one end of the bracelet. Pulling her apart, thread by thread, I felt the magic of the bracelet fall away. Today, I tore the bracelet off. I started taking it apart while sitting, mind-numb, in class. When I looked down at the tattered yellow and while pieces of my broken wish in my hands, I finally understood. I had lost love of every form, and it was my own doing. I wanted to cry. No tears came. My chest hurt.
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