How quickly a long-standing friendship can pass.
About 9 years ago I was 11 and I went to a school in a well-established district, although my family was rather middle-aged.I had friends from primary school there who were very important to me, but I was under the pressure strains at the time, which is why our friendship was put under a lot of pressure and eventually broke up at once.
My parents had separated when I was 2 years old and as long as I can remember, I commuted once a week, sometimes every week/weekend between my parents’ homes through the big city in which we lived.For me it was normal, even if it was stressful, at least I had contact with my parents. I had two circles of friends, two rooms, twice Christmas and birthday, but also had difficulty attending music classes or sports clubs regularly or meeting my friends.
The older I got, the more complex life became and the more I was expected to attend school.At the same time, however, it became more and more noticeable how my parents also tried to relieve themselves of the constant exchange with their ex-partner and to live their own lives. Both had found new partners, my mother was expecting her second child and had to move on to the outskirts of the city when I was 10. They always told me they really wanted me to feel good, but of course I didn’t know what was best for me. So I conveyed that everything is good and I feel comfortable as long as my parents are well.
Over time, however, my everyday life slowly became more and more strenuous and it became even more difficult to spend time with my friends, because they still lived in our old neighborhood, near the school, half an hour away by bus.To my father it was even a three-quarters of an hour by bus from the school, exactly in the other direction. I lost touch with my school and the other children there, isolated myself more and more, which my friends did not understand and negatively understood. I didn’t talk much about my situation either, because as I said, it was normal for me and the transitions were so soft that I couldn’t possibly classify it. Because even though my mother had moved, the next week I was back with my father and everything was as usual.
At some point I sat in class just before school closed, feeling like at that time constantly very uncomfortable and excluded from the rest of the class (in addition came the high status competition among the wealthy families with clothes, cars, houses, holidays, etc.) as a Classmate carefully shoved me a piece of paper and said someone had written something about me.I opened the note and read a conversation making fun of my dress style, i looked like a “grufti” and what my shoes looked like, etc. (I was very inspired by the “ghetto” hip-hop scene at the time and mainly wore dark clothes, captis, had a chain on my pants and stuff like that). Even though I didn’t think much of such status symbols, I also defined myself about my clothes and this letter hurt me a lot, but at the same time confirmed every guess I had about the image of the class of me. I had to swallow tears but read on. In the end there was something I couldn’t read: “I want to … ” then something in huge capital letters that I could not easily decipher. I put the note in and waited until the hour was over and everyone could go home. When the time came, I grabbed my belongings and wanted to go to the door. There some from the class had gathered and chatted with each other, including two from my clique, including my best friend, whom I knew from 1st grade. We had seen each other, but ignored each other, because we hadn’t understood each other very well for a few days. I wanted to walk past the group and i’m overheard that apparently someone from the class, Claas, had a birthday and they were discussing the birthday party. As I stood right next to them, it fell off my eyes like scales, I immediately crawled the note out of my pocket and read again what was written there: “I want to GO to CLAAS now”, in the handwriting of my best friend. He saw the note in my hand, and his corners of his mouth sank. I looked him in the eye, tears came to me and I ran out the door, I will never forget that feeling, and we have never spoken to each other since.
Even though we didn’t get along well at the time, and even though I had excluded myself from the class community, I had never dared him to make fun of me behind my back.At that moment, an enormously important social relationship broke for me, for good, because I felt unable to heal this wound. I never changed a word with one of my friends from this school and changed school in the coming school year.
For him it probably looked like I had overreacted a bit, after all, everyone loses a bad word about a friend.But for me, it all came as a slap in the stomach. I felt misunderstood and abandoned anyway, and then I get this note from the class, and soon learn that my best friend wrote it personally, presumably with another friend from our clique. By far this was the biggest shock I’ve had in my life.