We didn't text each other until the day the O Level results were released. It was strange. The silence between us had stretched for so long, and yet, there I was, at the train station, waiting for my friend Zi Yi. She knew about my discomfort around the others, the ones who had once been my closest friends, and she'd agreed to meet me there to help me navigate the awkwardness. I was glad she was there, but a small part of me felt uneasy. I hadn't expected Jesslin to be there, waiting for Dhaniyah too, which caught me off guard.
I remember texting Jesslin, feeling like I needed something, someone familiar in that moment. But her reply made everything more confusing. She told me to wait downstairs for my friend, since she was waiting for Dhaniyah. I was surprised, not knowing that Dhaniyah would be part of the group. It left me feeling even more uncertain. Was I still part of the group, or was I on the outside now?
Eventually, Dhaniyah appeared, followed by my friend Thong Wan. Yet, Zi Yi still wasn't there. They all left first, and I continued waiting with Thong Wan, the seconds ticking by in what felt like endless silence. Slowly, more people arrived, and before I knew it, a crowd had gathered, all of us waiting for Zi Yi. I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. It was almost comical, how we all stood there, unsure of where we stood, waiting for one person to appear. But it also felt like a quiet reminder of the chaos and confusion I'd been navigating in the past few months. It was almost as if time had stopped, the world around me frozen in this strange, unsettling moment.
Finally, when we reached the school, I couldn't bring myself to speak to anyone from that old group. It wasn't that I was trying to avoid them, it was just... I didn't feel like I belonged anymore. I stuck with my friends — the ones who had been there for me, the ones I could always count on. And that felt right. I remember holding my breath as we all gathered in the hall, waiting for our results. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
When the results came, the world seemed to blur. I saw my grades and knew that, for better or worse, this was it. This was the end of secondary school. This was where we all split off, where our paths diverged based on the results we held in our hands. It was over.
Everyone began to scatter, moving in different directions. Some were talking about what they would do next, some were still processing their emotions. It was like watching a puzzle come apart, the pieces slowly drifting away from each other. My mom arrived, a smile on her face as she took pictures of me at school. I put on my best smile for her, but inside, I felt a mixture of relief and sadness. It was over, and yet, it wasn't.
We spent the rest of the day together, just the two of us. I remember telling her how happy I was that I could go to polytechnic with my grades. It wasn't just about the grades, though. It was about the realization that I had made it through, that I had found a way forward. The years of uncertainty, the anxiety, the loneliness, all of it seemed to fade away in that moment. I had made it, and that was something to be proud of.
But as the day went on, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. When I tried to talk to Jaimie, I could sense that she didn't really want to engage with me. She was with Melody and Lixin, and I couldn't help but feel like I was intruding on a moment that no longer included me. It was awkward, like there was this invisible wall between us, a space that had grown so wide, it felt impossible to bridge. I didn't try too hard to force the conversation. Instead, I just chilled and tried to direct my attention elsewhere.
Days passed, and I saw how everything had shifted. I thought we were friends. I thought that maybe, after everything we had been through, we could pull through. But over time, it became clear that they didn't want to hang out with me anymore. I saw it on Instagram — the pictures of them laughing, having fun, while I sat on the sidelines, watching. It stung more than I expected.
What really hurt was seeing Joanna with them too. She was the one they had hurt the most, the one they had abandoned, and yet there she was, taking pictures with them, part of the group once again. It didn't make sense. How could they be so comfortable with each other when just a while ago, they had done the same things to her that they had done to me?
It reminded me of the time when they scolded me for posting a picture without telling them first. I had felt so small in that moment, so invisible. And now, they were posting pictures of themselves together, no one asking permission, no one caring about anyone else's feelings. It felt so ironic, so unfair. But I couldn't dwell on it.
The truth started to sink in after several sleepless nights, the thoughts swirling around in my head like a never-ending storm. They didn't want to be friends with me anymore. It hurt, but it was the truth. I had tried to hold on for so long, but I knew deep down that it was time to let go. So, I made the decision to leave the group. It wasn't easy, and I didn't do it lightly, but it felt like the only way forward.
In the end, I hoped we would never cross paths again. Maybe that was for the best. It was time to move on, to stop holding onto something that had already slipped away. It wasn't just about them; it was about me, too. I had spent so much time worrying about them, about whether I belonged, about whether I was still wanted. But in the end, I realized I didn't need them to define me. I didn't need to force something that wasn't there. It was time to let go and step into whatever came next.