Friends

What makes someone a good friend, no — what makes someone a friend? If you were to ask me when I was 6 years old, I would say they are someone who I could play with, someone who I could share my snacks with. If you asked me what makes a friend at 10 years old, I would say someone I could go to school with, someone who I could go get ice cream with. Now that I’m 16, I would say a friend is someone who can be just there, not say a single word and can be appreciated for their existence. Last year, I had a couple of friends. At least I thought they were. One day, because of one thing I said, everything fell apart. Was it really my fault? I asked myself. Maybe, but not entirely.  I never knew that someone could use your words and twist them to paint you in a negative light.

One afternoon, everyone in the friend group left school together, saying afterwards that they went to an ice cream shop. Why hadn’t they asked me to go? I could feel that something wrong was going to happen. As I walked home, I kept thinking to myself, did I say something or do something wrong? What created this big turnover? I just couldn’t think  what it was.

That night at 7 PM, I received a phone call. The person calling was part of the group, but had nothing to do with any of the previous drama. They asked me what I was doing and where I was. They then asked if I could meet them at one of the apartment lobbies of another in the group. That was when I realized that one of the people who had ditched me earlier was beside them and was only making them call because they did not want to talk to me themself. I begrudgingly said I would go, and sure, I’d be there in five minutes. Physically, I looked ready to face them, but in my mind I was preparing myself for the worst. And yes, it was more terrible than what I had conjured up. All of my friends turned against me that night. They said every evil thing about me that they could and more. I went home crying, not wanting to step into my house. I didn’t want my mom to know that I had no friends, but I knew that she was the only person that I could call who wouldn’t judge me. I called her as I paced around outside, bawling as I told her that I wanted to leave this dump of a school. I had no friends. What was I supposed to do? The first thing my mom said when my rambling was finished was “kiddo, what happened?” I tried my best to explain amongst all the tears, but no words came out. 

After all of the back-to-back fights, I realized I did have a group of friends that were there for me. It was a group of people I  was not aware of before, but now appreciate deeply. I’m glad I noticed because with the help of my friends now, I’ve begun to find my true self and identity all over again. It isn’t bad to lose some friends along the way because you never know who will be waiting for you on the other side.