Caught somewhere in the middle of heartbreak and accustomedness, even when you're mid-conversation with your friends as they speak over you for the hundredth time that day; desperately waiting for your phone to buzz with an invite to the party your friends planned right in front of you at lunch, but never getting an invitation; no one notices when you don't leave your dorm for four days straight. You are the outsider friend -- in a friend group of four, it feels like the other three each hold 30 percent of the friendship, while you only represent 10 percent.
A common feeling in elementary, middle and high school, I never expected it to be packed alongside my shampoo and conditioner when I left for college. I thought I'd finally be the real me and find friends who were similar to me, who would love me and consider me a best friend. Yet the people I call my best friends call others their best friends, and history repeats itself.
It's hard. It's painful. You text your friends to see if they want to grab lunch after class, and they reply an hour later saying they just ate. They Instagram photos with each other, captioned "Squad" on the regular; you're in one out of 78, and even then, only half of your face is showing and it's slightly blurry. It's well known you need to grab a few necessities at WalMart, but everyone goes four hours later without telling you. You constantly post how much you miss them, but no one says that they miss you. It goes on and on, and finally, you stop trying. They don't notice.
Even on the days that you do spend time with them, you still feel like the odd one out. No one laughs as hard at your jokes as they do when the girl to your left tells one; you suggest plans and suddenly there are crickets in the room; you start a sentence, but it gets interrupted by something deemed more important. The discomfort grows and grows and grows until you finally leave to go back to watching Netflix, because at least "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" is there to cheer you up.
Trying to fit in is exhausting and only creates a jaded version of who you once were. You lose interest in leaving your room unless it's for class; you skip meals; you stop going out to events and club meetings; and before you know it, you've binge-watched every indie flick Netflix has to offer and are forced to move on to the drama section -- only to find out you've seen most of those too.
I became the outsider friend when I was too young to understand, when I wore pigtails and shoes that lit up, and at times, I wish I could go back to being that naive little girl.
