Wise men say,

Moments of pain,

Moments of strife,

Moments of pressure,

Are the moments of the most growth.

 

The wise men were right.

 

The cafeteria had us packed like sardines,

It took me nearly five minutes to find my friend,

She was a flower,

She was a rose,

Her eyes sparkled at the sight of me like morning dew.

 

Everything seemed normal,

Then he showed up.

 

He was my age,

Sweet, innocent, and pure,

He was my friend.

 

He politely sat down next to me,

Writing, reading, and working,

He kept to himself.

 

She gave him an evil eye,

A glare that brought on a shadow,

I could see her teeth grinding,

I could hear her blood curdling.

 

It was no secret that she did not like him,

I spent more time with him,

I cared about him.

 

I was slipping through her fingers,

She was losing me,

She was losing control.

 She averted her eyes back to her paper,

Everything seemed at ease,

Then she spoke.

 

"Nobody likes you."

Her sour tongue lashed out at the boy,

 

In the past I had stayed quiet,

I told him to ignore her,

I asked her politely to stop,

It was wrong.

 

The tension had stretched like a rubber band,

It was a balloon ready to pop,

She had gone too far.

 

I stood up like a statue,

She started to cower back,

I demander her to appologize,

I accused her of being ignorant and rude,

I did not care if it hurt her,

She had hurt him,

She had hurt me.

 

She was a virus,

She was toxic,

She seemed intimidating.

 

But the thing is,

When I stood up to her,

She shrivled back into the ground.

 

That moment, 

That pinnacle moment,

Gave me strength,

It rid of my fear of being judged,

It changed me.

 

She was rose,

As a friend she seemed beautiful on the outside,

Her petals flourished and she pleased my eyes,

But she still had thorns that scrapped and stabbed and drew blood.

 

I did not care that she tried to turn my friends against me,

I did not care that she refused to interact with me,

I did not care about her.

 

I only cared about giving aid to the boy she had hurt,

I only cared about stitching his wound,

I only cared about him.

 

The storm eveuntally blew over,

The rose had left,

But that moment engraved into me like stone.

 

I did not know how quick it would be,

I did not know if it would be painful for me,

I feared I would lose a friend.

 

But now I realize that I will not tolerate,

Those actions,

Those words.

 

I grew from that point of pressure,

My morals were twisted,

A string had held me back.

 

I listened to the wise men,

I fearfully cut the string,

and I grew.

 

She was a rose,

But I am a forest.