Don’t worry – the friends aren’t dead, they just aren’t active parts of my life anymore. 

I used to jealously wonder how people found the one activity or experience that brought them pure undiluted happiness, and irrespective of the time commitment, they were willing to pour their heart and soul into. How do you narrow down the plethora of options and find something that you are that passionate about? I definitely didn’t trust my ability to discover this on my own, and I was right not to, because I only found my passion for writing (did you really expect something else?) because of two friends. 

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Friend No. 1 helped me venture through my emo teen phase and realize that writing could be a healthy outlet for my anger, pain, joy and overwhelming amount of love. As I tackled the small but seemingly big problems of a 14-year-old, she opened my eyes to the power of the pen. Since my first taste of the exhilarating feeling brought about by writing, I was hooked. I didn’t realize that I could mold my thoughts and emotions into words on pieces of paper that, when strung together, made actual sense. And I have her to thank for that. Unfortunately though, as enlightening as the friendship was, it was equally toxic for both of us. Somewhere along the line we were causing more harm than good, so we aren’t friends anymore. 

Friend No. 2 and I didn’t have a bitter end and are still friends, but our bond isn’t as strong as it was in its prime. I still recall that during my gap semester, as I wallowed in a mixture of sadness — because most of my friends had left me behind to fend for myself — and boredom — because I wasn’t an overworked ball of stress — she reminded me of my love for writing. Once again, writing healed me. 

Today, I don’t talk much to either of them. Yet, when I posted clippings of my pieces from the Daily Trojan on my story, they both replied telling me how proud they were. It meant the world to me because without them, I wouldn’t be here writing for the Daily Trojan and expressing the equally gut-wrenching and heartwarming experiences shared by me and my community. 

Naturally, when I considered the pivotal role they played in my journey as a writer, grappling with the fact that they aren’t involved in my life anymore wasn’t easy. As I saw the friendships dissipating, I desperately tried hanging onto them, because how can people who taught you so much just not be significant parts of your life anymore? I, and I am sure my friends, too, swept a lot of fights and disagreements under the rug, which in hindsight wasn’t healthy.  

It’s still hard sometimes, but my mum always quotes a poem that says that people come into our lives for a reason, season or lifetime. Perhaps these friendships were part of my life for a reason — to teach me to rely on my writing in difficult times and find my inner strength — and once they fulfilled this purpose, they exited my life. When I think about them, I am still filled with love and gratitude. But it’s also time to let go and accept that they weren’t meant to last forever. 

Initially, in falling for the cliche about how college is — where you find friends for a lifetime — I repeated the same mistake and came hunting for those bonds at USC. Instead of spending time with a lot of different people, I was very picky about my friends and always checked if they had that lifetime potential. But, there’s no way of knowing how long each person enters our lives for. And, honestly, it shouldn’t even matter. 

While I’ve always believed that the mark of a successful friendship is that it’s lifelong, I’ve realized that that’s not true — every friendship isn’t meant to last a lifetime. It’s natural for people to drift apart, have a falling out or just find others who are a better fit for them. The success of a friendship isn’t measured by whether we are 80 and in a nursing home together, but rather whether you learned something from that relationship — which can take anywhere from 10 years to 10 months.