Growing up is harder than I expected, everyone warns you about the increased responsibility but not once did anyone tell me that my relationships with my friends might suffer. I have had the same best friend since seventh grade (let’s call her X) so I left for college in Connecticut not worrying whether our friendship would last. X and I became best friends when I needed someone to protect me from all the bullies. Since that first day I asked if I could sit at her table during science class we have protected each other from all bad things that happen in life. X was there for every single freak out I had during my hellish freshman year. Sometimes that meant she received calls at 2 a.m., from her frustrated and homesick best friend, sometimes it meant that I called to complain about disgustingly messy roommate. Our friendship was not a one way street; I received just as many calls from X about the crazy ups and downs in her life. She was there when I finally decided I’d had enough of Connecticut and wanted to transfer to a school in the South. I would not have made it through my first year without her and for that I will always be grateful.
After my freshman year away from home, I decided that transferring to a school even farther away from home would be a good decision. X stayed in Virginia and I found a home at Bellarmine; I got even more involved with school clubs and found myself busy with school work and internships. Being isolated from my friends and family in Connecticut prepared me for living in Kentucky and the need for 2 a.m. calls slowly diminished. Despite the even greater distance between X and I we were still as close as we had been during my year from hell. My Christmas break saw the beginning of a fight that still hasn’t really ended. What started as a fight over her not making time to see me while I was home for two weeks and a disagreement about her boyfriend escalated into a three month period of silence. Could either of us have just conceded and took the first step to reconciliation? Sure, but for me at least, there was something about the fight that I could not overcome. At the time I could not figure out what was keeping me from calling her, especially when in my second semester at Bellarmine I found myself in need of a 2 a.m. rant. It was painful, like there was something huge missing from my life but every time I thought to call X, something stopped me.
When I came home for the summer I met X for probably the most awkward lunch I have ever eaten. Pre-fight we would catch up on everything that had gotten missed during my time away at school. At our post-fight lunch we mostly focused on what the other was doing, and I realized what kept me from reaching out after our fight. Our differences, which used to make our friendship interesting and unique, were suddenly very important in the decisions we were making about our lives. My desire to become a judge and potentially have a political career has affected many, if not all, of my choices. I am focused on my future, while X is still trying to figure out what she wants. We have grown up and changed in many different ways, and while I did not realize it until this summer, we have always been on completely different paths. Being an adult means you have to make choices, and I don’t blame X for her choices. My choices have led me away from my best friend and when something exciting or horrible happens it sucks that I can’t tell her about it. Unfortunately, being an adult means we have to accept the consequences of our choices. I subscribe to the idea that God or a higher being introduces people into our lives for a reason and X has taught me so much over the years. Our fight, which forced me to work through some hardships without my best friend has definitely made me a stronger and more independent person. I accept embrace the all choices I have made and while our choices have taken us down two different roads I wish X all the best.
With a background in stage acting, professional experience working in PR & marketing, and a number ofsongwriting and recording projects to his name, this jack-of-at-least-several-trades currently lives—where else?—in eclectic Austin, Texas. He has recently taken the plunge and made the daunting but inevitable decision to put the "professional" in professional writer.
Austin writes and rants about music, identity, pop culture, dating, social media, gender and sexuality, and muggle studies.
You can read his poetry and personal essays at Litzwich.Wordpress.com, or follow his erratic but often entertaining stream of consciousness at your own risk at Twitter.com/Litzwich.
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