standing closer to the edge, (cutversion)

 I was shaped beside you,

first grade sunlight and classroom dust,
your shadow falling longer than mine,
stretching over me like something protective.

You used to joke we were destined,
meant to be best friends.
You, the overprotective bodyguard.
Me, barely three feet tall,
issuing royal commands
from a throne of playground gravel.

You never complained.
You just stood there, steady.

We were the famous duo,
So popular we even held tryouts
to see who was worthy
to sit on the shelf, beside us.

Years shaped us slowly.
Little arguments. Little reconciliations.
Nothing that felt fatal.
I believed we were kiln-set,
fired strong enough
to survive careless hands.

I held you quietly,
trusting I was held the same way.

Then there were three of us.
Laughter, but wrong,
sharp at the edges.
I remember standing still,
not understanding the shift in air.

A small metallic click.
A clean, deliberate snip.
So light. So quick. So irreversible.
A piece of my ponytail
resting in someone else's hand.

You were standing there,
not guarding, not reaching,
not the shield you once promised to be.

It wasn't the hair.
It was the shift,
the knowledge that proximity
is not protection,
that a shadow can fall over you
without keeping you safe.

Later, I touched the uneven ends
as if clay could be reshaped
after firing,
as if nothing essential had shifted.

But I know
that was the moment
I stopped being displayed beside you
and began standing
a little closer to the edge
learning how easily something once centered
can be left to balance alone,
where I learned to steady myself.

P.S: its shorter and i kinda dont rlly like it that much but will see.