I was in third grade. I remember coming home often crying to my mother about a friend who had been mean. It was always the same girl, and I didn’t understand, because we were supposed to be friends. We played together at recess, ate lunch together in the cafeteria, spent the night at each other’s houses; but then, once a week or so, she would say or do something horrible to me. I don’t remember the details of what she did; I do remember sobbing on my bed and my mother gently telling me that it was my choice to have her as a friend or not. It’s one of the most important choices we make in life, she said — Who we choose to surround ourselves with.
With the right friends we can soar.
With the wrong friends we can hit bottom.
With friends who give bad advice, lead us astray, or simply don’t tell us the truth, we can become a shadow of the person we were meant to be.