Sammy M.
Photo provided by Sammy M.
If you’re reading this, they’re always with you.
I’ve been friends with the sky. She lingered in her eyes, blue as the sky before night laid it to rest.
I befriended her when we were in sixth grade. I had learned English through school and was surrounded by people who spoke my same language for years, so I was nervous to enter gym class with new people. I walked in, saw established friend groups, and immediately felt intimidated. I continued to walk, almost searching for someone to save me from this uncomfortable feeling. In my search, I spotted pixie hair, dark clothing, excessive jewelry, and sky eyes. I felt myself drawn to talk to her—and that I did. I sat next to her, introduced myself, and there were immediate sparks. From that day forward, I had my established partner. I was a chatterbox, and she was the keeper of my ramblings. Day to day, we would ramble about middle school crushes, hard homework, and anything else. We had shared our favorite animals, and I briefly mentioned my love for pigs. Not long after, I was gifted a pink, plush pig.
On occasion, she would miss school. On those days, I felt an emptiness. Over time, I got to learn about her personal struggles, and she learned about mine. Sixth grade came to an end, and we went our separate ways with different class schedules. With my new routine, I would often look for her in the halls or in class. But deep down, I knew there was always a possibility she’d be missing school.
It’s now sophomore year of high school, and I’m in a parking lot, running errands by myself. I scrolled through social media and came across a post with her face that read, “Happy one-year anniversary, we miss you.” My world instantly went silent.
Freshman year of college came, and I was out with friends for Halloweekend. It had officially been five years, and that was all I could think about—how things might have been if I had stayed in touch. How she would also be in college—older, wiser, more herself. The questions haunted me.
With time and healing, I came to accept it. The grief didn’t get better—it simply changed. From her, I learned what it meant to have a true friend: silly talks, endless giggles, and sincere love. She taught me to look beyond the surface in others and to show my love more consistently, more boldly. Our brief time together showed me a love worth a lifetime. Till this day, I live with our pig, I remember her niche humor, and her baby blue eyes.
I’ll always find you in the sky, Allison.
Sammy M., Rice University
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This letter series features reflections by students, faculty, and associates at Rice University. Their bravery in sharing their personal stories about connection, struggles, growth, and mental health remind us that behind every face is a story, and that no one is alone in what they’re feeling. This series and space exists to share real experiences from our community, and foster deeper conversations around mental health on campus. If you’re reading this, we hope you feel seen, supported, and a little more hopeful.
Letter series coordinated by Katherine Sammy. To get invovled with IfYoureReadingThis at Rice University, email kss11@rice.edu.
