I have two types of friends. I have my friends who make me feel good and I have my friends that make me look good. Let me explain.
Well, as you may have figured out by now, High school is a place where everything you do matters. Yes, Mean Girls wasn’t lying. It’s horrible, but it’s true. Even the lunch you get can make people look down upon you or approve of you.
So obviously, the people you are seen with matters greatly. I have been lucky enough to have stumbled into my friend group. They’re beautiful, admired, well liked, and well known. They’re not the highest on the totem pole, but they’re high enough up there. I’ve been with them since sophomore year. So how is it that I’m miserable? They’re my friends right? So, why then do I worry myself sick when making plans with them? I worry they won’t have fun. I worry they’ll look better than me. And what happens when they drink? I don’t drink. Sorry, I don’t really enjoy looking and acting like an idiot. But they do- drink that is- so now what? Name a worry and I have it. Sure, once we’re together I have a blast, but sometimes the worry is so strong that I don’t even make it out the door. I’ll text them an excuse and an apology and stay home where it’s safe.
Then I have my friends that make me feel good. These are people from all different “groups” and “social circles”. When I’m with them I’ve never thought I could laugh so hard or laugh for so long. I choose them because of who they are, not how they make me look.
These are the friends I call when I’m upset. These are the friends I call to laugh myself to tears and talk myself to death. Unfortunately, it has taken me until my Senior year to realize who I should be spending my time with. Can you guess? Need a hint? It seems so obvious and straight forward but has eluded me since Pre-K. The ones that make me feel good. Duh!
Though I don’t eagerly anticipate the pictures from our gatherings to crop up on Facebook to show off my “status” or “worth” or “value” blah blah blah. I’m left with something much better. I can wake up the next morning knowing that my friends actually care about me and not just about what I can do for them or how much alcohol I can get for them. I don’t need to impress or overdress. I just have to be me. So screw highschool standards. I’ll be out of here in a month and one day you’ll be here too and you’ll finally realize that no one cares who you were in high school. So why waste your time trying to be someone who you’ll just leave behind in between the pages of your old yearbooks? Answer: Don’t.