Breaking Free
Vivian Yi (Grade 8)
Silence, the absolute absence of sound, was a familiar friend to me in the first grade. More than just a friend, in fact it was a part of me–tied to the vocal cords confined within my throat–the sole reaction I could count on for the sake of not offending my ‘friends’. I hated it. The overwhelming discomfort of such quietness caused my insides to ache and my eyes cast downward.
I was a timid, passive child who often obeyed unpleasant orders that came from my only two ‘friends’. All in the name of fear. The fear of loneliness; another intimate friend who paired along well with silence. Maybe this duo was closer friends to me than the two girls I hung out with daily. Making friends at that time was extremely difficult for me, I never reached out. Instead, I only waited for a miracle of a kind peer. A tender classmate who would extend their hand for me to take it, embracing me into an everlasting friendship. Unfortunately, the only peers who sought me out were those two girls that treated me as if I were a servant.
“Do this! Do that! No, I don’t want to do that! We’re doing this because I said so!” were the same words I heard repeatedly and obeyed every single day during school when the three of us were together. It was unbearable to execute each inequitable request, but I never argued against them. If I did something that did not satisfy them, I knew I would face their petty anger. I knew I would lose them. I didn’t even like or respect the two, yet I still did everything in my power to keep them by my side. The trepidation that I would be alone with no friends always motivated me. If I jeopardized my current relationship with the individuals I deemed to be my best friends, then I would have nobody. Nobody. Friendless. Alone. And that is suffering I would try to avoid at any cost.
My biggest fear still came true. When one of my companions found out that I did not practice the same religion she and the other friend did, she told me that we could no longer be friends anymore. She ran away to the playground, climbing onto the top of the playset as my other friend followed her steps, and I chased after both of them, following their tracks through the field. I did not climb up, instead, I stood on the bark, looking up at them as they peered down at me. Such a position was not bothersome– viewing down on me gave them a sense of power which was something we had all grown accustomed to.
They both were yelling my most feared sentences at me, “You’re no longer our friend!”, “We can’t be friends with someone who isn’t Christian!”. Nothing escaped my mouth, the pleas that were swarming through my head never made it out into the air, and as I stood there in disbelief, the two slid down the slide and ran off to some other place, without me. They were gone.
After I had been dropped by my only two friends, I arrived home and all I could do was cry. My efforts in keeping a relationship all meant nothing in the end, and everything I felt was sorrow for myself.I was going to be alone. Isolated.
What I did not realize back then was that losing the connections with my two toxic friends would change my life, for the better. In the aftermath of being by myself for a few weeks in despair, I was one day partnered up with a friendly classmate. She and I hit it off, and I found myself developing a strong bond with her, and soon enough we became the best of friends. Ergo, I met new people that were connected with this new friend I made, and made new connections with the peers around me. I found myself breaking down the walls that trapped me from speaking my mind. With many acquaintances and meaningful true friendships, I overcame my passiveness and no longer fear speaking what I believe is right.
Looking back, it is not those around me who were at fault for my personal struggles. Kids will be kids, the given environment is not something one can change, but the way one chooses to make the best out of it for them is in their hands. For what is the harm in courage? The courage to speak up–is there any consequence of doing so? One’s pain may not be rooted in external factors but is instead branched deep within, internal conflict can be a difficult thing to get rid of, and it takes great resolve to face a fear. In the end, it isn’t about the unhealthy friendship that I had in first grade, if I wasn’t afraid to speak up then things wouldn’t have been so bad. It is I who had to raise my standards with regards to who I hang out with, and it was I who had to gather the confidence to let words from my mind out into the air.
And because of that, after the painful repercussions of losing my only friends, I was able to break free from not only toxicity but the cell that imprisoned me from using my voice.