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I remember when we built our first rope ladder. Posing for a photo in our uniforms, we stood along the wooden poles, beaming with cliche peace signs over our creation. I remember when we screamed at the top of our lungs at our first campfire, singing and cheering on to songs we can only recall the slightest of lyrics now. I remember when we stood under the sweltering heat, grass beneath our feet, at our footdrill session in a row of lanky bodies fired with tween angst. 

I'd like to think we were feminists before it was cool (says the girl who thought feminism was beating boy scouts to a cheer competition (read: attracting them), also when was feminism never cool?). How things are so different now. 

Her resilience, grit and ambition has always been inspiring. She had an effortless charm and adaptability which made everyone gravitate to her.

Yet my loved ones had always warned me about it. "She's only being friends with you to make herself feel better," they said. At first I defended her. Little did I know that it was red flag #1.

Somehow I had only noticed these flaws towards the end of my final semester, when I was undergoing what felt was the biggest rejection I've faced in my life, a moment when I felt truly unworthy of love.

"Will it make you feel better?" I asked, after she requested to see my room when she was cleaning hers. 

"Yeah, if its bad," she replied. At this moment it was clear in my mind that I had always been a benchmark, a tool for comparison, and only if I had lost or fared worse than her in her self-imposed competition, she would find her worth. 

It was in the months leading to our graduation ceremony, and I thought it would all come to a pass. With no yardsticks of society's expectations in place - no GPAs, no grades - it would be less of a problem, wouldn't it? Apparently not.

I wanted to be free from being a tool of comparison, one where only if I had lost or fared worse than her, she would find her worth. I wanted to be truly loved and valued for who I am, not kept around as a benchmark. I didn't know how I could possibly stay on for 10 years at the expense of myself being hit and pressured with the undercurrent of her slightly hostile, self-imposed competition.

During a lunch conversation, she persisted asking where my sister was working. I kept telling her she worked at a statutory board because that was what she had told everyone else, I wanted to honour my sister's privacy - my sister had always been private with everything in her life, something I have always looked up to - her principles of never giving too much away was a testament to how she is so secure of who she is, she never needed validation or approval from anyone else to dictate her worth. 

Yet this person had kept asking for the specifics, for the details. She wanted to know exactly where. I relented I finally told her, to which she went on to say, "Oh maybe she didn't want to say it because it's unknown." I almost choked. I had this conversation with other friends, and even when they said they haven't heard of it, none of them assumed it was 'unknown' and put her down in the process, but was open-minded enough to look it up and said they were happy for her. But I kept silent anyway, held my breath and let it be. 

On graduation day, it had finally reached full clarity. 

"Looks like all the honor rolls are sitting together. I wonder why," I heard a coursemate ask her as we were waiting for our turns to receive our degree scrolls on stage. 

"That's cause all the smart people are friends with one another," she replied.

"Then how come you're the only one in your friends with the honor roll?" he asked. 

I could barely hear her answer but I wanted to say how it was because she surrounded herself with people who she believed are lesser to make herself feel better, how it felt her whole life had been this way. In her mind it felt like I was a pawn, a commodity to constantly be compared to or measure up against, if she couldn't beat my sister, she'll have me to compete against and always win at least - when all I ever wanted was a friend who accepted me for who I am. 

I told myself not to be responsible for the actions of others anymore. In truth, I felt sorry for her that her insecurities clouded her judgments, that she had to constantly use everyone else as a benchmark for her feeling worthy. 

Friends wish well for each other, not for worse, and if I've been spending my whole life around her never realising how I had been treated, what does it say about me? 

Each time she had texted, I was overcome with remorse, self-hatred and anxiety, wondering how I had put myself in the situation for 10 years, I wondered if her intentions are true, or if I had put back on my rose coloured glasses, seeing the best in others and letting my guard down again. 

I realised how the societal tracks really blurred the lines of our values. When we're chasing a common goal of graduating with a degree – GPAs, assignments and exams – it was the common antagonist we were up against, the villain that brought us closer. After graduation, all these benchmarks are gone and we realise, it's just life. Achievements like degrees and certificates are merely routes created by society, we were tied to a route we were just belted in to be a part of, and as we grow older into adulthood, we realise life isn't all that. Everyone has their own journeys, we were never on the same race. 

And when we step out of it, suddenly it feels clear how the values they hold and mine, have been so incredibly different. They place premium on things that I don't – superficial things that don't hold meaning to me – prestige, personal accomplishments, only doing things for the sake of a byline in a resume instead of having the best intentions. It really baffles me how they can be this vapid when what they're achieving is so meaningless. 

I also realised how it all becomes even more complicated when the issue of social identity comes in. Because I'm of a minority race, perhaps I've felt like having someone who completely understands your faith and your needs seems to be the "true" person who understands you, someone you can be yourself around bec she knows your nooks and cramnies of your faith. Turns out it says more about our history and my comfort zone with not being able to say what I need around new people. This has constantly pushed me to go back to the same, familiar person whos not necessarily the best for me now.

I casted them as vampires when I was the one who had cut my own vein and forced them to drink. And I think it's for the best that we stay away from one another so she can cease her constant comparisons to me, find her own worth within, and grow as well.

Friends are not toys or illustrated books but they too are, in part, vehicles for development – and may be respectfully sidestepped when their ongoing presence threatens to impede who I want to become. As I've later realised, wishing to terminate a friendship doesn’t have to stem from random infidelity or unfeeling snobbishness: it may simply spring from a sober realisation that we were no longer who we once were.