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It was the first day of middle school, with the fall leaves slowly drifting to the ground and the crisp autumn air becoming chillier. Middle school would be a rite of passage for me, a transition from being innocent and naive to being mature and wise. I would have it all once I stepped over the threshold into that glorious school. Not only would I become more independent, but I would also develop new friendships. Excited beyond belief, I hurried so much while preparing for school that my surroundings became a blur. Afterward, I bolted out of the house, eagerly wondering how my day would go. What teachers would I have? Would I have to adjust to more advanced courses? Most importantly, what would be the workload for school? I contributed the entire bus ride to school just strategizing how I would enjoy my first day of “being an adult” to the fullest extent.

When I stepped through that door, entering that glistening main lobby, I inhaled in awe. Perhaps it was my euphoria that deluded my vision, but after taking my first glimpse of the school, I thought that I had laid eyes on paradise. The school was a gargantuan construction, with gleaming floors, walls decorated with colorful murals, and a transparent case packed with golden trophies, all commending the impressive achievements of previous and current students. As I continued to gawk at the interior of the school with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide, my two friends, who had always been there for me since kindergarten, brushed past my shoulder, smirking at my foolish-looking countenance. For the remainder of the day, I breezed through my classes, trying to seem as presentable and middle schooler-esque as possible. So far, my first day went smoothly. As I stared out the window on the bus ride home, I thought about the possibilities of what life at middle school would be like for the next two years. Little did I know the place that I thought would allow my dreams to come true would be the very place where my life would spiral out of control.

Every day after school, my friends and I spent each bus ride discussing our experiences in a new environment, ensuring that we put as much detail as possible into each conversation. We were ridiculous like that. However, I was so enamored by the prospect of finally being an “adult” that I did not know the subtle differences in their behavior. I thought that they were my true friends, the people who would stand by side through all of our middle school adventures. In hindsight, I should have realized that over time, they were isolating me, excluding me from our group. Whenever I tried to tentatively initiate a conversation, they would give me the cold shoulder. Even in elementary school, one of my worst nightmares was to lose everyone I held dear to me. This could not be happening to me. I guess I was too distracted by my middle school dreams to notice that my friends now regarded me with cold, unfeeling eyes. The only time they would even spare me some attention was to give me an unflinching glare. What did I do wrong? I spent so many days after school wondering if I had the ability to go back in time, what could I have changed in order to save our friendship?

As if my dilemma could not get any worse, I decided that the most mature way to confront this situation was to ask my friends to clarify what I had done wrong and apologize in the most sincere and genuine way possible. Instead of attempting to make amends or even give me a clear answer, they rebuffed me and ironically claimed that I had always planned to abandon them in favor of assimilating into middle school culture. Faces blotchy red from anger and mouths wide open, they yelled at me, claiming that they were the only ones contributing anything to our friendship. What could have been more upsetting than having your childhood friends scream at you? I left feeling more saddened than I was when I first approached them.

For months after the first day of school, it felt as if I was swimming through murky waters. I went to class after class, grumpily observing my other classmates laughing and smiling together and realizing that I would never be able to enjoy that with my friends anymore. One day, as I headed towards my locker to grab my materials for my next class, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Surprised, I turned around to find a girl, with a high ponytail and wearing a light, cherry-blossom pink shirt, standing behind me, who smiled and asked if I wanted to sit with her and her friends at lunch. I contemplated this for a few seconds, already a little too accustomed to being a loner at school. Finally, I agreed, putting on a calm and confident facade, when I was internally screaming on the inside. Could this be the source of light I was desperately trying to find to guide me out of the darkness? Could I finally have a friend again?

I ended up spending more time with that girl and even found the courage to interact with more people. Day by day, I was slowly becoming the girl I was when I first entered middle school: curious, ambitious, and most importantly, confident. As for my former friends, I could see them whispering amongst each other, confused as to how I managed to escape from the ditch of loneliness that they threw me into. They even tried to talk to me again, smiling and giggling as if we were back in elementary school without a care in the world. I laughed with them, even though deep down, I had not entirely forgiven them for what they did to me. These days, I am quite nostalgic about the childhood that I spent with those friends. I sometimes wonder if I could have done something to change the course of events. However, despite all of my pondering, I understand that our lives had just taken different paths. We were not destined to be the best of friends forever. The ways our lives have changed have made us much better people now. I have now surrounded myself with friends who care and love me for who I am and that is all I need.

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Written by Mackenzie Chen ~ Graphics created by Elwin Fu