ONCE A master in pushing people away when things get difficult, I have finally come to understand the comfort in allowing my friends to offer their embrace.

From the moment I started learning how I can talk to others, I had essentially started my habit of calling strangers my best friends. Unaware of the gravity that kind of relationship holds, a kid like me never made friendship a big deal. After all, what I needed was just someone to play patintero with.

As one grows up, of course, things become a bit more complicated. Like some school organizations, friends began requiring retention points to keep the friendship going. This entailed the loss and gain of certain people in my life, even before I could call myself a teenager.

Being a girl whose attitude is not her strong suit, I also recognized how so-called friends put on masks just so they could backstab me better in the end. The leaked conversations, the revelations gained from eavesdropping—it reminds me of what Taylor Swift famously said of something that happened to herself more than 10 years ago, “I remember it all too well.”

To say that my elementary days were such a rollercoaster ride is truly an understatement. Luckily, I made it clear to myself that life begins at 13 years old. I was not wrong for leaving my healing up to the people I would meet in high school and their overwhelming love.

My classmates, along with some upperclassmen and mentors, eventually constituted my support system. They became my constant companions, may it be in breaking rules or bringing the bacon home. I shared with them memories I still vividly picture.

With these high school friends, I need not worry about retention points or mere facades. I felt valued and loved—only to realize that I started to become the problem.

In understanding myself, I noticed that consistency is not my strong suit, in addition to attitude. It was hard for me to maintain friendships. For every inconvenience, I could not help but choose to leave, while bottling up emotions and suffering from loneliness.

A coward is how others may describe me. Perhaps, just a really bad friend may fit the description better. After all, instead of allowing myself to lean on my friends’ shoulders, I decided to run away. I did all this for reasons I could not articulate even to this day.

In the end, I lost my friends. This time, as Taylor Swift also famously says: “I’m the problem; it’s me.” I blame no one other than myself for these fresh wounds, and I understand my then-friends for failing to keep up with this kind of friendship.

Because of these losses, partnered with the concept of maturity that comes with age, I was able to bounce back. As much as I don’t want to view these once-dear friends as mere means to an end, I cannot deny their pivotal role in helping me become the better person that I am now. Losing them awakened me, to say the least.

Eventually, I managed to become the right friend. Running away is no longer my default response. I finally learned to give people the chance to be there for me—a chance I wish I could have given to those I let go of. Once uncomfortable with showing my vulnerabilities, I recognized the need to open up and allow myself to feel loved. Loneliness has been foreign to me since then.

Indeed, the gift of friendship has become one of my sites of both joy and regret. It has been paradoxically beautiful and painful, making it all the more remarkable. Perhaps, this gift of friendship is the reason why I find myself so attached to “Satellite,” one of the 13 tracks in Harry’s House.

Like satellites that guide others from afar, my friends have been supporting me despite the boundaries that I automatically set once I sense a problem coming. Like satellites that always surround us despite the distance, my friends have been there for me all along—waiting for me to finally reach out. The unconditionality that comes with these satellite-like friendships is something I now see so clearly.

I have accepted my friends’ embrace, and now, it is my turn to reciprocate. It is my turn to sing “I’m here, right here”—and mean it.