And one time I learned a lesson about friendship
Now is the time for college apps, and my main concern has been expressing myself through limited college essays. However, the other day I came across the UGA prompt, which asked me to describe the relationship between me and my best friend in 300 200! words or less. Naturally, my mind jumped to Michelle so I began to type, but, as I did, I realized there was no way to fir our relationship into 300 words or less... Still, I typed and typed anyway to see where it would go and ended up with a 1017-word essay about my best friend. Of course I want to use it all, but I know that I will have to cut some MOST of it down. But I didn't want to do that until I could tell the full story. And with that thought in mind, I began typing...
Having moved to my current hometown in the fifth grade, I was scared that making friends would be impossible for a newcomer like me, and, when school started in August, I was right. The bonds that had been made between my classmates dated back to preschool, and there just was not any room for me. Much to my delight, however, the next August saw the beginning of the new transition from elementary to middle school, where I was finally on equal terms with the rest of my peers. We were all in the same nervous boat, facing an unknown sea of people from two completely different elementary schools that had been merged along with us to form the middle school. For the first few months, everyone was a stranger to everyone else, which relieved me greatly as I set out to make friends.
It was on the first day of school that I met Michelle, a young aspiring cellist like myself, and with whom I shared many common interests. Soon, the two of us became nearly inseparable. While we did fight from time to time, nothing was ever bad enough to completely drive us apart; we were each other’s rock throughout our awkward preteen years.
Soon, though, we began a new phase of our lives when we reached high school. Having survived another summer apart, our bond had only strengthened as time went on, despite my naivety as to just how important Michelle had become to me. Michelle was my best friend, but that word didn’t carry any weight in my mind. Michelle could easily be replaced with one of my other friends, like turning a switch from ‘off’ to ‘on.’ Or so I thought, anyway.
My view of Michelle changed one afternoon as I sat in the back seat of our mini-van, my family and I on our way home from Florida after spring break. The warm sun was making me drowsy, and just as I began to doze off to sleep, my phone buzzed with a new message from Michelle that contained the scariest three words I have ever read.
“I might move.”
I read the words over and over again, trying to decipher their hidden meaning, unable to accept the fact that they meant moving away. For some reason I couldn’t breathe, as if someone had walked up and punched me in the gut. In a strange state of disorientation, I began checking under the seats and behind me in the trunk for the thing responsible for leaving me winded. Finally I calmed down and realized that the panic attack was a direct result of the message from Michelle, so I dialed her number as fast as possible and waited as the line on the other end rang.
When Michelle answered I could tell she was upset, although she tried to mask it by laughing when she picked up, as if she didn’t know why I was calling. When I heard her voice, tears immediately started falling as I wept silently so she wouldn’t hear. My tears were disgraceful, shameful, selfish, and I couldn’t figure out how to make them stop. As I listened to Michelle explain her situation, suddenly everything ached, and I leaned my head against the window, barely able to keep the phone raised to my ear. My eyes felt like I had been crying for hours when only a few minutes had passed, and although I tried my best to listen, my brain could not comprehend the things Michelle said.
Finally, we hung up and I was left alone in the back of the car to cry to myself for reasons I still didn’t fully understand. Even when I couldn’t produce any more tears, I still whimpered and shook with the shock of the news. It wasn’t until after I got home and spent the night in my bed staring at the ceiling that I realized what was wrong with me.
Michelle had become one of the most important people in my life, and now I was threatened with losing her forever. I couldn’t help but scold myself for all of the years I had taken her friendship for granted. Michelle had always been there with me, even during our worst arguments, but it wasn’t until I was threatened with losing her that I realized just what a major part of my life she had become. Together we had laughed, cried, worried, truly lived, and I couldn’t bear to lose someone like that.
Michelle had become more than just a school friend to me. My Michelle was a necessity, like food or water, and I beat myself up for not realizing it sooner.
Now, I sit across from Michelle in the orchestra room as I plan our final high school spring break this year. As I list all of the things I want to do with her in Florida-eat lunch at a restaurant, watch the sunset on the beach-I can tell she’s bored. She’s probably even rolled her eyes once or twice at some of my more ridiculous plans, but I won’t hold it against her because I know that, deep down, she is just as excited as I am.
In the end, Michelle did move, but only a few streets away from her old house. Still, the ordeal taught me a lesson that I will carry to my grave. The kind of friendship that I share with Michelle is one-in-a-million, and it’s the little moments with her like this that I know to cherish. Every conversation, every joke, every disagreement is a precious interaction with her that I will never waste again. Michelle has changed my life completely and for better, and I can’t imagine my existence without her anymore. I don’t want to.
Michelle is the greatest blessing to ever have come into my life, and my gratitude is never-ending. I know I can’t always tell her so, but the words are forever echoing in my heart, even now, as we plan one last trip before beginning our own separate lives. Always and forever.
“Thank you.”
Having moved to my current hometown in the fifth grade, I was scared that making friends would be impossible for a newcomer like me, and, when school started in August, I was right. The bonds that had been made between my classmates dated back to preschool, and there just was not any room for me. Much to my delight, however, the next August saw the beginning of the new transition from elementary to middle school, where I was finally on equal terms with the rest of my peers. We were all in the same nervous boat, facing an unknown sea of people from two completely different elementary schools that had been merged along with us to form the middle school. For the first few months, everyone was a stranger to everyone else, which relieved me greatly as I set out to make friends.
It was on the first day of school that I met Michelle, a young aspiring cellist like myself, and with whom I shared many common interests. Soon, the two of us became nearly inseparable. While we did fight from time to time, nothing was ever bad enough to completely drive us apart; we were each other’s rock throughout our awkward preteen years.
Soon, though, we began a new phase of our lives when we reached high school. Having survived another summer apart, our bond had only strengthened as time went on, despite my naivety as to just how important Michelle had become to me. Michelle was my best friend, but that word didn’t carry any weight in my mind. Michelle could easily be replaced with one of my other friends, like turning a switch from ‘off’ to ‘on.’ Or so I thought, anyway.
My view of Michelle changed one afternoon as I sat in the back seat of our mini-van, my family and I on our way home from Florida after spring break. The warm sun was making me drowsy, and just as I began to doze off to sleep, my phone buzzed with a new message from Michelle that contained the scariest three words I have ever read.
“I might move.”
I read the words over and over again, trying to decipher their hidden meaning, unable to accept the fact that they meant moving away. For some reason I couldn’t breathe, as if someone had walked up and punched me in the gut. In a strange state of disorientation, I began checking under the seats and behind me in the trunk for the thing responsible for leaving me winded. Finally I calmed down and realized that the panic attack was a direct result of the message from Michelle, so I dialed her number as fast as possible and waited as the line on the other end rang.
When Michelle answered I could tell she was upset, although she tried to mask it by laughing when she picked up, as if she didn’t know why I was calling. When I heard her voice, tears immediately started falling as I wept silently so she wouldn’t hear. My tears were disgraceful, shameful, selfish, and I couldn’t figure out how to make them stop. As I listened to Michelle explain her situation, suddenly everything ached, and I leaned my head against the window, barely able to keep the phone raised to my ear. My eyes felt like I had been crying for hours when only a few minutes had passed, and although I tried my best to listen, my brain could not comprehend the things Michelle said.
Finally, we hung up and I was left alone in the back of the car to cry to myself for reasons I still didn’t fully understand. Even when I couldn’t produce any more tears, I still whimpered and shook with the shock of the news. It wasn’t until after I got home and spent the night in my bed staring at the ceiling that I realized what was wrong with me.
Michelle had become one of the most important people in my life, and now I was threatened with losing her forever. I couldn’t help but scold myself for all of the years I had taken her friendship for granted. Michelle had always been there with me, even during our worst arguments, but it wasn’t until I was threatened with losing her that I realized just what a major part of my life she had become. Together we had laughed, cried, worried, truly lived, and I couldn’t bear to lose someone like that.
Michelle had become more than just a school friend to me. My Michelle was a necessity, like food or water, and I beat myself up for not realizing it sooner.
Now, I sit across from Michelle in the orchestra room as I plan our final high school spring break this year. As I list all of the things I want to do with her in Florida-eat lunch at a restaurant, watch the sunset on the beach-I can tell she’s bored. She’s probably even rolled her eyes once or twice at some of my more ridiculous plans, but I won’t hold it against her because I know that, deep down, she is just as excited as I am.
In the end, Michelle did move, but only a few streets away from her old house. Still, the ordeal taught me a lesson that I will carry to my grave. The kind of friendship that I share with Michelle is one-in-a-million, and it’s the little moments with her like this that I know to cherish. Every conversation, every joke, every disagreement is a precious interaction with her that I will never waste again. Michelle has changed my life completely and for better, and I can’t imagine my existence without her anymore. I don’t want to.
Michelle is the greatest blessing to ever have come into my life, and my gratitude is never-ending. I know I can’t always tell her so, but the words are forever echoing in my heart, even now, as we plan one last trip before beginning our own separate lives. Always and forever.
“Thank you.”