Long Gone

I stood alone on that altar. My arms stretched as far as they could go, waiting to make friends.

“Mom! Look!” I called out, waving at her excitedly “Look what they built here! Do you see it?”

I showed her the altar they built in the school playground. Decked in banners and posters for a pep rally the older kids were hosting. I didn’t care about the rally itself. Most kids my age would’ve only cared about being part of it, but I only cared about the school, genuinely. I was excited to meet new people. I wanted friends, I needed friends. Having spent what little I remembered of my life locked away at home. I craved human connection behind my own blood. The thought of being around other kids, even if it was just a few of them, or if it was for a few seconds, it was intoxicating.

“Come on, Joseph!” My mom shouted. “We’re late! The others are waiting for you inside.”

I barged into the classroom, breaking the silence with the sound of the door slamming against the wall. My heart pounded in anticipation, but to my surprise, the room was mostly empty. Mrs. Carly greeted me with a gleeful smile. I looked behind her. Only four kids? That was weird, I thought it would be more. A blonde boy, a brunette girl with glasses, and a bigger boy tucked in the back of the classroom. The big guy seemed interesting, he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Without thinking, I ran up to the table nearest to him and sat down, eager to make my first friend.

“This,” I muttered to myself, hiding the excitement. “These could be my friends!”

It was beautiful, while it lasted.

Now I have no friends. The big guy never came back after that day. My attempts to befriend him fell flat, and I never knew why. The girl with glasses? I talked to her until she suddenly stopped going to school in fifth grade. Later on, I found out she dropped out, I never knew why. The blonde boy—Ethan—became my closest friend. I approached him and we immediately clicked. Same sense of humor, same favorite color, same Cartoon Network show. We were inseparable until high school. After middle school we both went to different schools, and despite my efforts, we never spoke again.

I tried to make new bonds, but none of them ever stuck. None of them ever brought back that spark I longed for. At some point, drowning in school work, dealing with toxicity, and college issues, I was forced into a bubble of detachment. I betrayed them all. The few friends I had? Gone, I pushed them all away, hurt in subtle manners I ignored at the time.

My pride, my ego, my selfishness, all my faults. A group of friends I made in senior year, the group with which I planned to go to college with? Gone, I ignored them the moment a girl gave me affection. I thought I was clever choosing my own convenience over loyalty. She left me, for another man, and my friends no longer wanted to speak to me after that. It was too late to fix my mistake, too deep was the cut I inflicted on those who cared about me.

By the end of senior year, the friends I had once cherished were just strangers to me. To them I was nothing more than a nobody. Graduation was the deepest gut punch. Rainy fell that day, soaking everyone’s gowns and making them cling uncontrollably to our bodies. After the ceremony, that was it, no second chances, that was the last time I’d see any of them. They all seemed so full of joy, easy to begin the next chapter of their lives. Cars drove away, people said their goodbyes, some of which would remain friends after school. And I… I felt a void. I watched everyone gather, cheering, clapping, taking pictures, and laughing amongst themselves. Not me—I slowly walked up the altar again, imagining those moments in pre-school before this all started. What a journey it has been.

I looked up at the school parking lot, I saw them, my friends—now strangers to me. They seemed happy, unconcerned, and unbothered with me. All I had left were memories of what could’ve been. When they left, hoping at least one of them would stop and acknowledge me, all I could do was regret everything I did to damage our relationship. I just wanted some friends, then I betrayed them, now they’re gone. I have no one—to everyone, I am nobody. I tried to hold my head high, to stand with some dignity, but this hollow feeling was just unbearable. I wasted every opportunity to do what I wanted to do the most.

After about an hour, the field was silent, almost everyone left. The lights had been shut off, leaving only the evening sky to illuminate the place where hundreds of us had stood together, pretending we were all walking into some bright future. One by one, I watched them go from beneath the brim of my soaked cap. My phone buzzed a few times in my pocket. Notifications–nothing more. No congratulations. No “where are you?” No “come take a picture with us!” I didn’t expect any, but the silence still stung. About five minutes later, those who stayed behind to take family photos or linger in nostalgia finally walked off.

The people I met back in preschool… where were they now? They had been long gone from my life, scattered like dust in the wind. I remembered tiny versions of us sitting with crayons, sharing snacks, promising to stay friends forever. Forever, it turned out, had the lifespan of a fruit fly. Middle school friends? The ones I used to joke with at lunch, the ones I once thought I’d know for the rest of my life? They weren’t here either. They hadn’t been part of my life for years. Somewhere along the way I chose new people, then newer people, then people I thought were better—only to realize I didn’t allow any of them to stay.

I leaned on the edge of the altar railing, my hands gripping it until my knuckles turned white. The rain slowed to a mist, cold enough to raise goosebumps on my arms. It felt like the world was trying to wash me clean, rinse away every mistake I made, every bridge I burned, every friendship I ruined. I remembered that girl I chased in junior year–the one who rejected me so cleanly it felt like a surgical procedure. I remembered ignoring my actual friends while I tried to impress her, missing hangouts, forgetting birthdays, pretending I was too busy. I remembered the look on my best friend’s face when he realized he wasn’t a priority anymore. I remember how I left our group-chat over and over while they repeatedly added me back, trying to maintain that bond I still wish we had.

I remembered the day they stopped inviting me to sit with them. I told myself they were overreacting. I told myself I didn’t need them. I convinced myself I was better off alone, even though I knew I wasn’t. All those little moments led here. This empty field. Me watching my breath fade into the cold air while everyone else left with someone they loved. Despite everything I did to make graduation the ceremony I dreamed of—planning photos in my head, imagining running up to my friends and hugging them–it ended… just like that.

No one was waiting for me.

No one called my name.

No one searched the crowd for my face.

Just silence. Just me.

Alone, staring at the altar that had meant so much when I was a child. Back then, standing on a stage made me feel special. Important. As if life was promising something grand. Now, the stage only reminded me of everything I failed to hold onto. In the end, I had no choice but to accept that. Some dreams were simply not meant to be. By now there was no one left. The many people I met throughout the years were nowhere to be seen. Despite everything I did to make graduation the ceremony I dreamed, it ended with me and no one else. I stood alone on that altar.