An Honest Confession of Friendship: a personal essay

A Friend

She wanted to change for others; I wanted to change for her. We went on a camping trip once where we would laugh and huddle around the fire. We breathed in smoke, marshmallows, maybe the occasional chemical, and the earth. At the time she had gone off with someone else leaving me behind. Though when we returned from our camping retreat, we would disappear into each other's interests, uniting in our opposite attractions.

She enjoys playing with Barbie dolls, watching children's television programs, and wearing vintage clothing while I enjoy wearing grunge clothing, watching superhero television shows, and playing with art materials. I didn't believe her when she told me she enjoyed spending her time on these things, and I admit I was not comfortable to conform to her forms of passing time. But as her friend, I joined her child's play that reminded me of my younger self which only reminded me of the shame I should feel for degrading her interests. Though our homes became refuges for our interests—they also became a place for our emotions and conversations.

Sometimes these sacred moments weren't found in our homes but could be found in a church's bathroom. In the dim church bathroom, she confessed her feelings for a boy—a boy that I had like two years prior. I didn't reveal this, thinking that I was protecting her, giving her a chance since she would be better for him, for I counted myself unworthy. I was not fully aware of the lies I would tell to keep her safe. I encouraged and cut ties with the boy—even if it did hurt—for she was oblivious to my whole deception.

My lies came back when she told me she wanted to be a summer camp leader years later. She had always wanted to be a leader; I had always wanted to be a helper. We were meant to lead together, our opposite perspectives working as one. We believed we were capable of it. But in the end, it was proven that I was the leader, and she was the helper. Then she disappeared when I needed her... In the final weeks leading up to the camp, I believed she would come to my aid as I had told her prior that I would be working on those final weeks. She never did. The weekend before summer camp, she told me the day she was leaving that she was going on a trip for the weekend with our friends. So, I was left behind in my work to wrestle with my emotions.

I like to think that the reason we ended with me burning from the heat of the summer, the pressure of time, and the lack of support during the summer camp was because I was never honest enough with her. Though when we looked back on it, I came to realize she had been using me to get what she wanted.

She wanted to be a leader, I made that happen.

She wanted the boy, I made that happen.

She wanted my time, I made that happen.

She wanted a friend, I made that happen.

The next summer our relationship gradually came to a close. Our conversations became short and simple. She was silent; I was loud. It was unusual, her quietness to my new found boldness. I asked her about this sudden change, and then she revealed the decision to move away. We would only grow farther apart as our separation became literal.

I know now that it was for the best: we were never meant to change for one other, only for other people.