Friends have been a big part of my life since third grade, when my sister–who was basically my emotional support–left for college.
The funny thing about friends is that I’ve never kept them for very long. I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to friends actually; rarely do I keep them for more than one school year.
However, I have one group of friends that, while I’ve only kept one year (so far!), I know will last longer than that.
My friends are a collection of band-enthusiasts, fellow therapist-goers, and fan girls; honestly, sometimes they’re my favorite people.
The first friend to talk about is Jonah.
Last year, I dealt with some symptoms of depression. I felt like my problems were unsolvable, my life was unlivable, and I was unlovable. But Jonah texted me every night, just to make sure that I would never have to go to sleep that sad again–and even a year after I started feelings genuinely happy again; I still cannot fall asleep without at least texting him a ‘Good Night.’
It only took one or two weeks of his unwavering and dedicated texts to start to comfort me–something that still boggles my mind!
Due to anxiety, I still have barely spoken to this miracle freind in real life. However, one day I hope we’re the kind of friends that are still texting all night in college; because sometimes it’s nice to know that you’re important enough to be someone’s last thought before they end the day.
Jonah has gone through heat with his girlfriend for me. He’s listened to a lot of rambling and ranting. The best thing, though? He’s given me advice–not sugar coated or with a tissue–but the cold hard truth of things when I need it. He never disregards my feelings, though. And that’s the main reason I love being his friend.
I also have Sarah.
Sarbear. Bud. Best friend.
But Sarah wasn’t really my best friend until later in the year last year. It was one of those situations where one day they’re a stranger, and the next day they’re your number one.
Sarah helped me this summer; my anxiety became severe, and I thought that maybe it was stronger than me. But Sarah did what she does best: she gave me the brutally honest comment of “Bruh, you’re an idiot,” and began to help me stitch all of the pieces of my life back into a quilt. The patches of my life were arranged differently, but the result was better than the original.
Sarah’s also helped tremendously this year. In just about two full months of school, I’ve been through a lot. Some days are better than others, but I always know that Sarah is on my side whether she admits it or not. And knowing how much we tease each other, “not” is probably the better choice.
The last friend to talk about is Ashley. Ashley and I met through a friend group and found that though we may be very different people, we get along great. Ash and I haven’t gotten a ton of time together yet; but just one thing I love about her is that she’s so accepting of everything: race, religion, opinion–she will accept it all. And in a world with so many people who won’t, that’s refreshing.
Ashley and I have been enjoying study hall together, and it was during this bell that I finally realized just how lucky I am.
“What are we doing for homecoming?” I asked with a bored sigh. I knew Ashley wasn’t going with our group, and I had a ton of friends I could arrange to go with; but somehow I still managed to stall off making a decision and complain about something that wasn’t really a problem.
“I don’t know. I think Jonah’s going with Caileigh. I don’t even think Sarah’s going and…,” She paused to adjust the hair-band in her hair, but all I can hear is the pause for dramatic effect, “I thought you were asking Ben?”
I laugh, because Ben doesn’t go to our school, and I don’t think I can get a request for a guest ticket in before the deadline. I remember grumbling under my breath about my ‘lack of friends’ and how ‘no one wanted to go with me.’ Neither of which were true, but for some reason I was in a mood.
When I caught up with Sarah later that day, she gave me a concerned look.
“You okay? Ashley said you were having a rough day.” I was about to answer with a complaint. I don’t know what it was about that day–maybe I didn’t drink enough coffee.
As I looked into Sarah’s eyes, I knew I had nothing to complain about. A year ago, going to homecoming with a group of friends was almost too crazy to fathom. This year, I was looking into the eyes of a girl that would go to the counselor and pretend to be concerned about something she didn’t care much about for me–because I was too anxious to go alone.
“Nevermind.” I shook my head, finally realizing just how lucky I was to have been given these people.
I’d ask God–but, you know, my friends accept me despite my lack of belief. So, superior and unworldly being? You listening?
All of my friends may have done something stupid in your eyes–but in mine they shaped my life to be better than I could’ve made it myself. Maybe sending a couple text messages or talking to me a few times doesn’t seem like much to you, but for me–who’s seen what they’re going through–I know they deserve more appreciation than I can give them. Maybe I should start by saying,