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Middle School Stories

My adventure of my eighth grade year was a mess. I’m here to share my experience of a young teenager facing the peer pressure of unhealthy friendships.

By Anonymous WriterPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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Now, you might be wondering, "Oh, it’s just another of those silly experience stories. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary." You couldn’t be farther from wrong.

We’re talking about middle school, one of the most confusing times of your life. Today, we’re going to go back in time to my own years as an eighth grader.

I had a typical school and home life, nothing too drastic. Good grades, healthy family; it’s all one could ask for, and something few receive. It wasn’t school or home that messed up my year, it was a different topic. Friends.

I could go on and on about the things my so-called friends have done to me, physically and mentally. I had experienced things people would only face when in high school and up, and I told no one about it. The only person I would tell was my parents, but I was too afraid to. Instead, I went along with it, accepting my fate as one of them.

So let’s get into the story about what they did.

It all started the summer we were transitioning into eighth grade. I, least to say, was not the kind to live a normal summer as a teenager. Where girls in my grade hung out with each other and took pictures of themselves in bathing suits, I would be out on my bike, exploring my town with people I thought were sane. In the beginning of the summer, we found secret places on places of town I didn’t know existed, we played manhunt in woods near a ballpark even if there were small snakes and such, and we played video games like Minecraft, Overwatch, and Super Smash Bros, games my brothers had laying around. It was fun, I must admit. But there were some days when they were just in a mood. Days when they would become suddenly depressed and would take it out on me. Most of the time, they messaged me saying they were going to hurt themselves, and they weren’t kidding. They had scars on their wrists and hips.

It got worse the month before school started. They invited one girl to join them, and she brought them alcohol and vape. I never wanted any part in it, and I was thankful they sort of respected my decision. The reason I say sort of is because they still teased me for it, for being a wimp and keeping the promise I made with my parents. Nonetheless, I was taken aback. These kids I have trusted with secrets, have suddenly taken the wrong turn down the path of life.

It wasn’t until the first four weeks of school before I realized how bad it had gotten. They’ve snuck beer and wine into their house at sleepovers to get drunk, even smoked electronic and real cigarettes to satisfy themselves. I had gotten stuck in a battle with myself over these people, and the world around me seemed blind to my assortment of problems. How their careless actions rubbed off on me. How because of what they have said to me, I now have scars down my wrist too. That’s not even the worst part.

After the few weeks, I chose to move lunch tables at school. I sat at the table next to them; it wasn’t far, but I wasn’t sitting at their table anymore. It was funny what happened after that. Not even a week later, two of them get caught vandalizing school property. I was right, I told them to stop and that it would land them in serious trouble one day.

The next week I was at a football game. One for my town, where the middle school and high schoolers would go on Fridays. It was quite fun, actually, until I saw them.

You see, after they had gotten caught, I cut off all communication with them. I hung out with another group, one who would never do what they did. I was in a good place. But at that football game, it happened again. I saw them, the group, there, sharing vapes with each other.

I avoided eye contact, looking away from the junkies. Unfortunately, one spotted me, the one who used to be who I though was my best friend but really caused me most of my problems. She also happened to be on the track team and chased me into the parking lot and put onto the school field. Five years of competitive soccer paid off though, I managed to out run her and get back to my friends. We stayed after that, though, and only traveled in a group to protect each other. It happened again though, she saw me and ran.

It was a pretty good game, our town wound up winning. Besides the fact I was traumatized the rest of the week from a psychopath sprinting at me. I know you might think it’s childish of me, to be scared of a harmless classmate. You are in fact wrong though. She was far from harmless. She kicked people who were in a ten mile radius of her, not stopping until they toppled over in pain. She did it often, too. Every time she slept over, she attacked me in the middle of the night, pretending she was some cat. Once, I took a cupcake she stole from my house and she started to hit me. We got into a full blown fight, I had enough strength to defend myself and not harm her too bad.

All that chaos ended though. It ended a while ago. I’ll be honest, I miss going on those crazy adventures. It was fun while it lasted.

I wrote this to tell people how not everyone is what they seem like. I, the kid who had the perfect life, was battling with myself if I should stay with friends like them or just plain leave. I wish to have told the message that you can be whoever you wish to be, no body is stopping you from accomplishing that. Please, know it’s never too late to change and that if you keep your eye on the right path, everything is going to work out in the end.

Have a good day, everybody, and thank you for reading my story.

friendship
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About the Creator

Anonymous Writer

hey.

I’m not creative so pretend like this bio is good.

I’m here to write, not for money.

“live long, love song, be strong.”

-edward jenkins

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