So Honest it Hurts

I won’t lie, sometimes I get really sad when I see pictures on Facebook of high school classmates who are still close friends, palling around 7 years after graduation. They’re having so much fun! I remember them fondly! And for a split second I wish I was there with them.

But then I remember… I hated high school. Not everyone at my high school — which was filled with great people who would probably hug me if they saw me tomorrow, so this isn’t a criticism on them at all — just high school in general. For whatever reason, I never quite fit in. I was always sort of the odd one out. I mean, I’ve known most of my classmates since at least kindergarten (with a 3 year break in the middle), or since at least 4th grade. I grew up with these people! But I just never clicked. It wasn’t them, it was definitely me.

It makes me a little bit sad, actually, that I could grow up in this wonderful community full of people who love each other enough STILL to be in each others’ weddings, to visit in the hospital when they have babies, to go to parents’ and grandparents’ funerals after all this time.

Don’t get me wrong, I have my little group from high school. But to see people, dozens of people, crossing groups and paths and forming new, bigger social circles from the same well of high school friends… without me… it’s a little bittersweet. I’m so happy for them, I really am, and just a tad bit jealous.

But I found my group in college, where I stopped feeling like such a freak all the time, so… I guess it’s a trade-off. And to be fair to my hometown friends, they all went to college together, too, so I guess it’s sort of the same thing.

I learned a long time ago to never wish away what’s happened in the past. Everything happens for a reason, and I believe that more firmly now than ever. And yet… I look at them, having such a lovely time living their lives, and a little part of me just wonders a bit about what might have been…


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