Not Everyone Is Your Friend

When I was four, my father left.

No explanation. No goodbye. Just the sound of a door closing and the silence that followed. I didn’t understand what was happening—I just knew he was gone. And from that moment on, life stopped being simple.

My mother worked multiple jobs just to keep us afloat. We moved constantly. I went to a new school every single year until I dropped out in the 10th grade. No roots. No stability. Just survival.

I met people from every walk of life. And because I’m good-hearted by nature, I believed everyone was my friend. I thought kindness was a mirror—that if I showed it, I’d see it reflected back.

But life doesn’t work like that.

I learned the hard way. Through stolen belongings. Through lies whispered behind my back. Through fists and blades and betrayal. I was jumped. I was stabbed. I was broken.

And just recently, I went through another betrayal—this time from people I called family. People I trusted to have my back. But they didn’t. They were never for me. They wore masks so well, it was like they were born with them.

This isn’t paranoia. It’s clarity.

They weren’t good people. They were poison wrapped in promises.

I wish I had learned earlier that not everyone is your friend. I could’ve saved myself years of heartache, trouble, and money. But I didn’t. I had to walk through the fire to see the truth.

Still, I let it go. I give it to God. And I move on.

Because even though the world taught me to be cautious, it didn’t kill my heart. I’m still here. Still standing. Still learning. And now, I know better.