November 20, 2025
Today was different. Not in the quiet, hollow way yesterday wasbut in a sharp, electric kind of way that left me both exhausted and oddly… awake. Like the fog had finally cracked just enough to let a sliver of clarity through.
I came to college as usualearlier than most, out of habit more than hope. The campus buzzed with its usual rhythm, but there was an undercurrent I couldn't quite place at first. Then I saw them. My ex-bestfriends. And oh, were they performing. There they were, putting on a show for the facultyl aughing too loudly, gesturing dramatically, weaving some story designed purely for attention. It was transarent. Sad, even. And when their little act fell flatwhen the professor barely glanced their wayI couldn't help but smirk. Failed again. Karma's got a sense of humor.
But that was just the prelude.
Later, someone approached mesomeone I hadn't expected to speak up. A girl from our batch, quiet, usually in the background. She came to me trembling, voice low but urgent, and told me everything. How they'd pretended to "understand" her, how they'd drawn her in with fake warmth, only to mock her behind her back. How they used empathy like a toolsomething to wield, not to give. I listened, stunned. Not because I doubted itI'd seen their masks slip beforebut because hearing it from someone else made it real in a new way. This wasn't just about me anymore. It was a pattern. A system of cruelty dressed in friendship.
I thought this kind of thing happened in first yearwhen people were still figuring out who they were, testing boundaries, forming fragile alliances. But now? In second year? When we're supposed to be maturing, growing, learning? No. They've doubled down. Refined their tactics. Made exclusion an art form.
And then came the real gut punch.
Our favorite sirthe one whose lectures actually make us think, the one who treats us like future professionals, not just studentswas caught in their web too. Apparently, those "friends" went to him and askedno, impliedthat he shouldn't teach us. Not because we're disruptive, or unprepared, or even in a different section… but simply because we're not theirs. Not part of their inner circle. Same class. Same timetable. Same dreams, technically. But in their eyes? Expendable. Invisible. Unworthy.
I stood there, jaw tight, heart pounding. WTF, bruh. I never expected thisnot from people I once trusted with my secrets, my bad days, my insecurities. To weaponize a teacher's goodwill? To try to sabotage someone's education over petty social politics? That's not just betrayal. That's malice.
But today wasn't just about their darkness. It was also about oursmy friends' and mine. Later, I saw a few of my actual friends cornered by seniors, roped into some menial, unwanted task just because they didn't know how to say no. They looked trapped. Resigned. And something in me snapped.
I walked over. Calmly. Firmly. And argued. Not shoutednever thatbut spoke with a clarity I didn't know I had. "They don't want to do this. They have their own work. And no, it's not 'just five minutes.'" It felt strange, using my voice like thatnot for attendance as Class Rep, not for presentations, but for us. For protection. For dignity. And it worked. The seniors backed off. My friends were free.
We walked away together, adrenaline still humming under our skin. And thenlike every good friendship deserveswe bitched. Hard. We called out the hypocrisy, the manipulation, the sheer audacity of people who call themselves "besties" while sabotaging others. We laughed, not out of joy, but out of disbelief. Out of shared clarity. There's something strangely healing in naming the poisonespecially when you're not alone in seeing it.
Later, we headed to the bus stop together. No one left early. No one disappeared mid-conversation. We stood there, shoulders almost touching, watching the buses roll in. For once, the silence wasn't heavy. It was comfortable. Companionable. Real.
Now I'm homeor almost. Still in that hazy, half-awake, half-asleep state where thoughts blur at the edges. My body is tired, my eyes heavy, but my mind… my mind feels lighter than it has in weeks. Not because everything's fixedit's not. Those ex-friends are still there. The damage is still real. But today, I didn't just survive. I acted. I protected. I chose my peopleand they chose me back.
And in a world that often feels cold and transactional, that matters more than I can say.
So yeah. Today was eventful. Ugly in parts. Beautiful in others. And through it all, I stayed standing. Not perfect. Not unshaken. But present. Awake. Anddare I say itnot entirely alone.
(Also, I'm sleepy af. Writing this with one eye open, fingers clumsy on the keys. But I wanted to get it down before tomorrow erases the feeling.)
Anywayno matter where you are, whoever you are reading this in your own quiet corner of the worldhave a good day. Be kind. Be safe. And if someone tries to dim your light? Don't let them. Sometimes, just showing upand speaking upis the most revolutionary thing you can do.
Goodnight. Or good morning. Or wherever you are in your day.
You're not nothing.
You're not invisible.
And you're definitely not aloneeven when it feels like it.