Sophomore year of high school was possibly the worst year of my life. I was taking AP US History, the hardest class I had ever experienced up to that point. My relationships were a mess. I couldn't feel God's presence or love that I was promised. I had no appetite, no energy, no motivation; I was pretty sure I had some mild form of insomnia, depression, and anxiety but couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed to get it checked out.

 

Marissa and I had become friends over the summer because we found out that we were both being led on by the same guy at our church. He was an awkward guy in real life, but a playful flirt over text. We both stopped talking to him and became close friends instead, helping each other move past the embarrassment, betrayal, and insecurity we experienced through finding out that he had been using the same lines and inside jokes with us.

 

A few months later, she told me she had a crush on my friend Kyle. Kyle had been my best friend for the past two years and also helped me through the earlier betrayal. During that time, he had confessed he had feelings for me but was telling me in order to get over it; I felt bad for not being able to reciprocate, but appreciated his honesty and willingness to set aside his feelings for our friendship, which I really valued. Many months had passed since then, and I was so excited to set him up with Marissa--two great people who seemed perfect for each other.

 

So I did set them up, and they started dating early into that sophomore year. We joked about how they were indebted to me and should treat me like a queen. They both continued to talk to me: we gossiped about church drama, we shared our struggles with our faiths, and we often about how their relationship was going. Marissa would tell me about the nice things he did for her, and Kyle would call me often asking for advice about how to handle situations that came up. I was happy to be this appreciated third-wheel at first, but a few months in, I found myself avoiding those phone calls and bumping into them at church.

 

Because of how much I loved receiving those phone calls and bumping into him at church.

 

A smile would form on my face when I saw his nicknamed caller ID and silly photo light up my phone screen; my heart would skip when I glimpsed his particularly well-groomed hairline at the base of his neck. When someone said something stupid or funny, I would automatically look to him for confirmation of shared amusement; when my awful APUSH test scores came out he’d be the first person I wanted to rant to about how my brain isn’t wired for this education system. But he was dating one of my closest friends, a friend that I set him up with because I had said no to him before. How could I do this? What was wrong with me?

 

Kyle got me chocolates on Valentine’s day that year. In the attached note, he said he was so glad to have me as his best friend and that he hopes a different guy will give me chocolates next year. I gave away the chocolates, but kept the box. I cried myself to sleep that night.

 

After Valentine’s day, I slowly started ignoring his phone calls and declining Marissa’s invites to hang out, making excuses about how I had too much APUSH to work on. In reality, I couldn’t concentrate on my schoolwork so I wouldn’t do it until it was overdue; I wouldn’t study until ungodly hours the night before, leading me to sleep through the tests and have to attend make-up sessions. But maybe they believed me, because eventually, they both stopped trying.

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