I kept the same close friends, a core group of five people, all through middle school and into high school. We called each other’s parents Mom and Dad, spoke entirely in inside jokes , and were even writing a series of novels together. After our years of shared memories, I was sure we’d be best friends forever. But during sophomore year, one of the girls in our group suddenly backstabbed another without provocation. And just like that, our tight-knit group unraveled. I had no desire to keep the backstabber in my life, but I missed the happiness of our former group, and I mourned the loss of the friend she used to be. Now there was tension and bad feelings even when she wasn’t around, and we all knew that the five of us would never willingly be in the same room together again.
My life had been incredibly stable up until this point, which could possibly help explain my neurosis about change. I’d never experienced real loss, trauma, or drama, and so I’d grown to see any change to the status quo as a threat. But now I had a taste of the truth, and it terrified me. If my longest, closest friendships could be broken, then nothing was safe. There was nothing I could count on.
But this experience is how I learnt that basically, everyone suffers, and the reason for that is that we’re too attached to things, people, outcomes , ideas. I got sad when my friend group splintered because I was attached to my friends. I don’t like change because I’m attached to my routines.
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