I was back in the Dominican Republic after a few months of living in the United States, and one of my friends from high school invited me to hang out with some mutual friends from school. I wasn’t expecting it and didn’t want to go because I felt anxious about seeing if our friendship had changed for the worse, but I decided to go in the end. 

Back in high school, I thought my friendship with them would gradually end when we graduated. I was right. We all went on different paths. Initially, we tried to see each other at least once a month, but it never worked because of our schedules. 

Being in that room with all of them talking about things they did when I was not around made me feel like I did not belong there anymore. I just listened to them talk while I kept to myself. I felt like I was watching a movie; seeing them laugh and share memories I had no idea about made my stomach sink with sadness.

I felt like a fish out of water, like I did not fit in with the group I had been a part of for years. And I thought how much more I would have loved being back home in Manhattan than there. But I sat quietly, smiling at everything they said, looking for an opportunity to leave. Yet, I stayed because I loved them and was happy to be together again. These people had been a part of my life for a long time and had put a piece of themselves into the person I am today. 

Growing up with them, I laughed, cried, and did some stupid things. Sitting there, I found it almost painful to see how things had changed. The promise of growing old together and sharing important parts of our lives with each other would never happen as we once thought it would when we were young. That broke my heart, but with time, I accepted that people sometimes outgrow each other. And it hurts.