At first, I gave it a month. Four weeks.

It was a generous number for a group chat – consisting of 9 kids who had barely conversed with each other outside of school –  that was created on the spur of the moment to “discuss philosophy.” Seeing how it also coincided with the start of quarantine, I was confident in resting my case because the whole thing appeared unpromising.

But after one night of talking about philosophy and countless 3 a.m conversations on teenage love and other absurd topics, I gave it 4 months until the inevitable fall of the group chat, now named JQL. I predicted that schoolwork and extracurricular activities would soon replace our chat shenanigans, and all of us would resort back to how we were before. The chat would seldom make small talk, and if fate allowed, we would greet each other in the hallways at school, but nothing more. 

It’s been 14 months now, and I went to Universal Studio with them last week. Tonight, we brainstormed on what to do when we all hang out the day after graduation. And I’d be lying to myself if I say that I didn’t have hope in this friendship all along in spite of the constant reality check.

I had always been aware of the longevity of friendships, especially the ones formed in an academic setting. The middle school friends who knew me better than anyone else turned into strangers who barely met my eyes in high school didn’t exactly help with my abandonment issues, nor did my mother who kept trivializing my affairs with my friends and promptly reducing them to one word: passerby. 

Part of it was also my doing: for being too trusting of what we would become in high school and for being too naive in believing that a person’s friends won’t change as they themselves do. Perhaps “cautious” is a better word than “aware,” and I was too cautious so as not to get attached and get hurt in the process that I rejected the possibility of JQL becoming more than a chat that I’d find months later buried in my DMs. 

In short, I had seriously overestimated myself and underestimated the situation. The 8 people at JQL ended up giving a new life to the word “friendship.” (Wow, how INFP of me to say.) They did so at a time where I had complete acceptance of the fact that my high school experience would conclude on a quiet note. So thank you JQL, for helping me realize my self-worth, for giving me a sense of belonging, for being one – if not the most – exciting part of the last 4 years, for making me grow a spine, for being sentimental with me,  for going on spontaneous adventures with me, for living my best life with me, and for investing in this friendship as much as I am.

In regards to the future, we’re all heading towards different paths. Though the departure is bittersweet, the time we’ve spent will always make me smile. And call me a loser for glamorizing a high school friend group, and maybe this time I’m committing the same mistake – getting too attached with this letter as proof – but for a girl who has struggled with making friends and keeping them, this sense of belonging will stay with me forever.