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Maybe this one is not exactly about resilience, but maybe it is. I don’t really care. It is needed at this time. Last week I was talking with one of my favorite thirteen-year-olds, and we were talking about problems. She told me that she thinks her Dad, who is my friend, comes over to my apartment, has a drink or two, tells me all his problems, and then “POOF”, I magically solve them and all the problems simply disappear. I laughed, for many different reasons. But then she said these words, “I wish I had someone I could talk to like that.” I was no longer laughing. Those words hit me square and hard. They also made me think.

When I was in middle school, before I could drive, during the winter after the varsity boys basketball games on Friday nights, it was common to walk the short distance from the high school to the only Dairy Queen in my town. On this particular night, I was with my friend Jeffrey. Jeffrey was one grade behind me but he was WAY ahead of me in the art of flirting. On this night, Jeffrey was doing what only he was capable of and I was just watching, trying to learn SOMETHING. In the end, because we talked to the girls a little longer than expected, we were a little late showing up to Dairy Queen that night.

I remember this scene so vividly. Dairy Queen was on a corner, and the Dairy Queen sign was always lit up brightly. There were lights on the ground that lit up the sign as well as those inside the sign. This meant the area in front of Dairy Queen was very well lit. On this Friday night, with trampled, dirty snow littering the grass, it was lit up as a boxing arena. As Jeffrey and I came around the bushes to make our late arrival, the two contestants were clearly visible, inside the ring of awkward teenagers not quite knowing what to do with themselves. John had said something about Will’s girlfriend and Will was ready to kill. John was too fast and just danced around on the trampled snow and this only fueled Will’s anger so much more. It was not so much a fight as a weird game of tag in a small space with some quick dance steps and verbal taunting thrown in. The manager eventually came out and everyone dispersed to begin their night. Everyone began their night except for me. I remember that night so clearly because, for better or worse, that was the night I think I began the life I have lived.

Once Jeffrey and I rounded the bush that shielded the drive-thru lane, it was clear there was a fight. At least something of interest, because there was the familiar circle and people yelling this and that and maybe even someone crying. Just normal things for a middle school scuffle. Nothing too unusual, except there was, at least for me. Something I noticed on that night has haunted me til this day, and will continue until I die. There were two VERY distinct groups gathered on that small piece of snow-covered grass that night. There were the stoner-skater-hippie-artsy-musician-punker bad boy group supporting John that night and there were the jock-preppy-college bound-wealthy good boy group supporting Will. I belonged to both groups. I saw friends lined up on both sides of that circle, and they expected me to choose. Jeffrey made his choice. I did not choose that night. I could not choose that night. I just stood there, alone, separate, belonging nowhere. I have never chosen, actually.

If I am honest, one of the reasons I dropped out of high school is because I could never make that choice. I could never understand why I could not be friends with every single person standing in that circle that night, including both John and Will. But that is simply NOT the way the world works. It seems as though there is always going to be an US and THEM in this world. I remember feeling so desperate back then to have someone to talk to who might be able to help me answer so many questions. I did not reach out, and no one knew. I suffered, alone. Just one more awkward teenager who had friends on all sides of the circle but could never make a choice. Belonging everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.

Which brings me back to my thirteen-year-old friend. I think the life I have led is easy compared to what kids are facing today. I can not even begin to imagine some of the difficulties they are facing, some of the questions they have, and some of the choices they are being forced to make. I only know that I can listen. I only know that I can try to be the person they wish they had that they can talk to. I will fail. Guaranteed. But I will also succeed, and that is more than enough, because sometimes being a teenager really kinda bites, and all you need is someone to talk to.