Confession time: Our school holds a ceremony for students who get full grades in Biology in every exam, practical and theory and in-class performance. This year, only twenty students in total, across years 10-12 were honored; my friend and I were among them. Gowns were garbed, caps precariously perched on our heads, and sashes, on which the school’s name was embossed, loosely ( this is an important detail ) hugged our chests. The ceremony began. The parade was headed by two students, each holding the country’s flag. We marched toward a platform where the head of Biology department stood along with the school’s principle, vice principle, and others whom I cannot recall. The national anthem played, all while standing in the searing April sun. Qur’an was recited, a speech was thrown by both the head of Biology and the principle, and they began calling our names, by which we would individually walk to the platform, have our picture taken, be given modest, yet very symbolic presents, and remain on standby to have a group picture. I was the last in line ( Alphabetical ) and my friend right ahead of me. During the waiting interval, my sash was very problematic and recalcitrant, slipping off my shoulder. I had my friend fix it twice for me and firmly set it on my shoulder. In all honesty, I didn’t really care for the ceremony or honors, I was just happy to share this with my friend. I was in deep thought about what I should say, appropriate to this moment, because this may be our final year together. The second time he fixed it for me, I felt very nervous; my throat dried, my heart beat violently and erratically against my chest, and there was a catch in the voice, as I plucked up the courage and uttered “Congratulations! I wish you the very best in your journeys.”* He said something I cannot quite remember, because my memories are fuzzy. Anyway, the ceremony went smoothly and we had delicious treats. Later that day, we had a Constitution and Human Rights class, it’s compulsory for year twelve, but it’s a light course, so we had finished five minutes before the class ended and the teacher allowed us to chat. Our group ( often called the nerd group ) occupies the rightmost disks in the class, we have since eighth grade. We also sit in couples. So, after some prolonged silence among us, I turned to them and slurred “I’m going to miss you guys.” And that was the killer blow to whatever modicum of resolution was holding the tears back; I broke down in tears, the kind that would redden your face and drown out any noise and oblige you to cup your face in your hands. Yes, I’m emotional. My friends were perplexed and startled. My friends said something to calm me, but I cannot remember what. My closest friend** then said reassuringly “Don’t worry, you’ll remain friends even after high school. You’ll keep up on the Internet and you might see each other during holidays.” It suddenly hit me; I don’t want us to remain friends after high school.

Maintaing friendships is hard work, it requires strenuous effort by everyone involved, it demands attentive listening, sacrifices, and to try to help and to be in regular contact, none of which I’m good at. My conversations are often inundated with ‘LOLs’, ‘Hahaha’ and often expressions generally indicative of boredom and lack of interest, painting a rather dull picture of myself. I deal with this by often ignoring people, appearing offline and making excuses to avoid conversations after the first few times, which definitely puts any friendship, especially one maintained over a long distance, at jeopardy and decline; makes it moribund. That’s not how I want to remember them. I don’t want my final interaction with them to be ignoring their Skype request or tweet. I don’t want to have any sullen or stained feeling of frustration with them ( which I generally feel if someone calls incessantly ) or worse, for them to feel this way about me. I just want to end our friendship on the best of terms, in its heyday; a coup de grace. I want to remember them as the guys whom I remained friends with for over seven years; who gave me great pieces of advise and helped me through the darkest of times, whom I regard - with not even slight exaggeration - as brothers.

I’m really conflicted about this. I would love to maintain our friendship, but do not believe in my ability to do so. I have done this countless times with many people and I really don’t want to do it to them. They deserve better. I love them.

Thank you for reading. I also love you for taking time out of your day to linsten… err read the musings of a random internet dude. :) Any notes are greatly appreciate. Cheers.