It is said that in a king’s darkest hour, his knights will come to his rescue. Loyalty, however, seemed to be a foreign idea to Troy’s followers. And when the tempest came, he was alone, save for one faithful subject, me. But the support of a single disciple wasn’t enough for this member of social royalty, and thus Troy left without a single word. His retreat was a shock to all of us who called him a word sadly forgotten in elite societies: friend. Thus, my life could be split into two key eras, before and after Troy’s disappearance. It wasn’t so much that he was the guiding light of my existence, but in a way he was my one way ticket into the life I wasn’t born into. And I will forever love and hate him for this.

You see, Fitzgerald wasn’t far off the mark in his tale of social confliction. Although the nouveau riche were and will always be the baseline of aristocracy, they hold no merit. They are no Kennedy’s, no Cooper’s, no Vanderbilt’s. We live transient lifestyles, in a state of flux between the lives we lived in the past, and the lives we hope to live in the future. And for a while I existed in this limbo, quite comfortably if I had to say so, until Troy ruined everything.

It was sometime in sophomore year when I transferred to Birch Walton. My transformation from PS to private came after my family’s sudden rise to fortune. That however, is a story for another time. Anyways, I arrived mid year, right before final examinations to a school of fashionistas and ivy league aspirers, who were often one in the same. You know that feeling where you step into a new place with confidence, and everyone looks at you and you know they all secretly want to be you. Well I don’t either. My transition was tumultuous to say the least, but in time everything seemed to fall into place, or rather I jammed the pieces of the puzzle together, creating a life for myself I never imagined possible.

Till Soon.
    tli.