The procedure continued almost everyday for a year. I would take a deep breath, clear my throat, gather up every ounce of bravery within me, open my mouth, and speak the potentially dooming word “hi.” This task may seem inconsequential but considering my circumstances, it was quite daunting.

Forming friendships has never been my strong suit. In fact, I can only count on one hand those I would call my “true friends.” Still, I was perfectly content with my social class in the high school caste system. If quantity of friends was wealth, I may have been a peasant, but at least I was happier than a thousand lords. I felt no reason to branch out from my comfort zone stretching as far as my wingspan. I didn’t talk to people that didn’t talk to me, and as far as I knew, things would stay that way.

At the beginning of my Junior year, however, on behalf of what could only have been divine intervention, I forsook my lifelong introverted personality and began to say “hi” to this complete stranger. She had been a schoolmate for four years, yet I knew nothing more than her name and her face. Despite that, for some odd reason, I felt obligated, drawn, compelled to her friendship. To be quite honest, she didn’t seem to offer much. I hardly ever saw her smile and was almost positive she never laughed. Yet Ashley intrigued me. And for months, I never knew why.

I was shy, introverted, and scared; she was shy, introverted, and scared. We were personality clones. Wouldn’t that be a perfect match? No, instead I had to push myself to be a pseudo-extrovert and initiate friendship with her, despite all of the doubt and discomfort filling my head. What if she hates me? What if I annoy her? What if she has no desire to be my friend at all? Every time I went up and talked to her, these thoughts collided in my head. Still, something inside of me wanted to be her friend, even if taking such a risk would force me to go against my social traditions and face my fears.

Soon, my little greetings escalated into small talk about homework or annoying people in our class. My insecurity in making new friends slowly faded and I actually started to believe I had the ability to be the first to reach out and create new relationships. Then days would come along where my fragile walls of optimism would shatter. I would offer my usual conversation starter, but she would shut me down before I could even process what was happening.

“How long did the homework take you? I didn’t think I would finish! Wasn’t it really hard?” I would ponder with enthusiasm.

“I guess.”

“I...”

And then I would pause, realizing I wasn’t welcome to talk any further, realizing she had killed the conversation. Consistently, the words “I guess”, “I don’t know”, and “yeah” were the bullets, and she very willingly pulled the trigger. I would greet her with a warm smile, she would answer with a hard stare; I would open with inviting questions, she would retort back with minimal response. I figured I should give up.

Then, by complete chance, I learned more about her in minutes than I could have in months. I was scrolling through tumblr, a favorite blogging network of mine, when the usual “Find someone you know!” sidebar caught my attention. I typically ignored it, but I couldn’t help but notice Ashley’s face in one of the icons. There, displayed right in front of my eyes, was a link to take me to Ashley’s blog, her virtual diary. I immediately clicked.

I surprised myself with this accidental discovery, but she surprised me even more with the identity conveyed in this blog. There was no color, no life. Scroll after scroll revealed black and white images of skeletal girls staring into your soul, beautiful quotes communicating distress and depression, and her personal posts describing the methods she used to mold herself into her ideal figure and release her mind from all of its burdens. My stomach rolled over itself, my palms shook with fear, and my heart pulsed out of my throat. I read and read and read until I could stand it no more. She was not who I thought she was. She cut herself. She starved herself. She purged herself. I had read about these things in textbooks, but I never understood that these disorders could actually exist, especially with someone I knew.

In that moment, I realized my risk would be worth it. Even if she ended up hating me, even if I pushed myself far out of my comfort zone, I would never be able to forgive myself for leaving her to slowly drown in her illnesses. I needed to be there for her, I needed to forget myself and my own timidity and love her with all that I had. A few weeks later, she ended up confessing everything to me. I finally understood that her coldness was not towards me, she was fighting depression. She needed someone, and I wanted to be that someone. After months of prayer, counseling, and endless support, she stopped practicing these behaviors. She is now a new person, and I must say that I am too. I witnessed a miracle. She has taught me selflessness, humility, love, and patience. I won the battle against my self-doubt and was rewarded with a best friend. There are days when I wonder what life would be like without her friendship. I imagine myself still shy, still only concerned about myself. I imagine her still lost, still stuck in the same routines. If I had never agreed to take that chance, we would both continue to be caught in a web of our own insecurities.