In fifth grade, I met the girl who I thought was my best friend. She was beautiful, hilarious, and understood me on a deeper level than all the other 12-year-olds I went to school with. I still have the letter that she wrote me on Valentine’s Day, where she told me how much she loved me and cared for me.
At the end of eighth grade, we went our separate ways. During our first year of high school, we stayed in contact, updating each other on who we had a crush on and how difficult our classes were. I hadn’t seen her in almost a year, but I still considered her my best friend. After freshman year, she moved away, and I never heard from her again.
I always wondered what I did wrong and why she didn’t want to be a part of my life anymore. Laying in my bed, with tears streaming down my face, I came to the realization that some people simply are temporary in my life. At this time, I refused to accept that. I imagined reuniting with her someday and it being the same as it was when we were 12. I never saw her again.
When I was 14, I had a crush on a guy in my homeroom. He was tall, caring, and made me laugh. Every day, I looked forward to FaceTiming him after school. This was the first time I felt like I was worthy of receiving attention from a guy. I held onto this feeling even when he started becoming distant and lost interest in me.
Once again, I was lying in bed crying, wondering why he didn’t want to be a part of my life anymore. I imagined him calling and telling me that he missed me. He never did. I went on through the rest of high school and he never spoke to me again.
When I started college, I got thrown into a large and chaotic friend group. We were a very diverse group, and everyone brought something different to the table. The first month of college was pure bliss. We spent our days swimming, taking late night trips to Taco Bell, and studying together in the library. As most freshman year friend groups do, we had our problems.
As the weather got colder and the days got shorter, our group became smaller. Naturally, there was drama and arguments over the dumbest things, resulting in the loss of certain friendships. We made a new group chat, and I mourned the loss of these relationships for months, holding onto any attention I got from the individuals who were no longer our friends. Once again, I found myself crying in my room alone, wishing that I was still close with the people I met during my first week of college.
Some Saturday nights I go out and see someone from a past chapter of my life. Instead of crying about how we aren’t close anymore, I smile at them from across the room. On nights like this, I question why I’ve fantasized about finding closure, resenting the people no longer in my life. It took me 19 years to realize that I’ve spent my whole life grieving over something that isn’t lost. These people I’ve “lost” will always be a part of me, even if they are buried deep within.