8 April, 2017. The memory still lingers in my mind, much like the bitter taste that clung to my mouth long after that day. It started like any other school day, the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter filling the hallways as students hurried to their classes. I had always thought that bullies were just a minor nuisance and that those who were bullied too often seemed overly sensitive. I used to wonder why they didn't just stand up for themselves. But that day, everything changed—though bitter, it was the beginning of a new start in my life.
As I walked through the crowded corridors, I witnessed something that shook my understanding to its core. My friends, the very people I once trusted, were not just dismissing the pain of others; they were weaving it into their daily lives like a twisted form of entertainment. This wasn't the first time I noticed it, but no matter how much I tried, I just couldn't bring myself to cut her off—to finally be free. It should be simple, right? Then why does it feel impossible..?
"Seriously? He's way out of your league. What do you even think of yourself? You look like a friggin' hippo!" Sylvia laughed. Sylvia's eyes flickered to mine for a moment. However, she went back to her conversation. Finally, she approached me.
"Shut up…" I said under my breath.
"What's up, Oxygen thief?" Sylvia said as she "playfully" hit me. Jade, who she had been taunting before she noticed me, looked quite relieved that she found somebody else to taunt. That's just the way things are, and I don't blame her.
"Ouch," I grunted as I rubbed my shoulder where she had just hit me. The sting spread all across my shoulder. Sylvia laughed, thoroughly enjoying my pain. Friends hit each other, that's normal. I tried to convince myself.
Do I just lack the strength to confront this? Am I simply being oversensitive, or have I finally recognized the darkness that lies in their actions? What I knew for sure was that day opened my eyes to a cruel reality: torturing friends isn't just an act of careless disregard; it's a betrayal of trust, and it shattered my perception of friendship.
I walked into my house, put my bag down, and went to my room. I lay flat on the bed, only to be struck by a sharp pain in my shoulder. I immediately went to the mirror to check what caused the pain, only to catch sight of the bruise caused by the earlier confrontation at school.
"Dinner's ready!" my mother announced. I sat at the table to eat, thinking of what had happened at school today. How could I ever think of such people as my friends?
"How was your day?" my dad asked, starting a conversation.
"It was fine," I felt my heart race as those words left my mouth—I lied again. Why do I lie every time? I know that they love me. I also know that they might help me. But I just can't…I can't tell them. It's like there's an invisible rule that I can't ever disobey. Would they think I'm sensitive if I tell them? Would they start to hate me for laughing with Sylvia? Would they… Thoughts flooded my head as I had my meal.
"Can I not go to school tomorrow?" I asked my parents, my gaze flickering between my mom and dad.
"Why not? Are you sick?" My mom questioned me, her expression puzzled and concerned, waiting for my response.
"I fell. I uh…fell in the bathroom. I hurt my shoulder." I told my mom, trying to convince her. Hoping she wouldn't doubt it, I showed her my bruised shoulder.
Bewildered, my mother asked, "How come you bruised your shoulder? It looks like somebody punched you. Tell me, who was it?" She demanded my answer. I could only respond with silence. My heart raced, words wouldn't come out of my mouth. My throat tightened, and my breath came out in shaky bursts. My bottom lip quivered.
"Answer me!" She yelled, slamming the table. It made it hard to hold my tears back. My throat tightened, but I swallowed it down. No. I wasn't going to cry—not in front of them. Without a word, I pushed my chair back and walked away.
The moment my door clicked shut, I let out a shaky breath, pressing my palm against my bruised shoulder. It still hurt, but not as much as the truth I refused to accept. I climbed onto my bed and buried my face in my pillow, tears soaking through the fabric. Scrolling through the internet should have been a distraction, but nothing could quiet the storm in my mind. I hated everything. The blaring horns of passing cars, the distant chatter of people who had no idea what I was going through—it all felt unbearable. Humans are cruel, selfish, and heartless. I despised them, being a human myself. How very laughable.
I've had enough. I'm going to cut her off. This time, for real.
But how?
Even as I told myself this, I knew it wouldn't be easy. Sylvia wasn't just another person in my life—she had been my friend for years. The idea of severing that connection filled me with anxiety. What if she turned the others against me? What if I ended up alone? The thought terrified me, but wasn't I already alone?
I reached for my phone, hovering over the chat with Sylvia. Our messages were mostly one-sided—her complaining about people, gossiping, and occasionally throwing in passive-aggressive remarks at me. Was this what friendship was supposed to feel like?
Taking a deep breath, I typed out a message. My fingers hesitated over the keyboard.
Me: Hey, I don't think you are the right type of friend for me.
I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the send button. My chest tightened. Once I sent it, there would be no going back.
The screen dimmed.
Coward.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Why was this so difficult? It wasn't like she cared about me. If I disappeared from her life, she'd just find someone else to torment.
A sharp knock on my door startled me. "Honey," my mom's voice was softer this time. "I don't know what's wrong, but you can talk to us, okay? Whatever it is, we're here for you."
I closed my eyes. I wanted to believe that. I wanted to walk out of my room and tell them everything.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
So instead, I did the only thing I could do. I turned off my phone, buried my face back into my pillow, and wished for the night to swallow me whole.