Before coming to UCSD as an undergraduate student, I led a "shadowy" school life back in my country. I had neither good grades nor friends to hang out with. Since I had asthma years ago, I was believed (by others and even myself) to be weak and bad at sports. My parents were worried about me getting bullied in school, so they always tried to "protect" me in every way possible.

Interestingly, things turned upside down when I summoned the courage to join the archery club in my first week at the university. Despite being "socially awkward" for years, I befriended almost everyone in my club. As if on instinct, I started working out, successfully joined the archery team, and even secured third place in the individual category and second place in the team category in my first intercollegiate tournament in Southern California. On our way back from the competition, one of my teammates gave me a "friendship bracelet." I tend to give others gifts to show my kindness (and soothe my lack of confidence), but I seldom received any, probably because I did not have many close friends, let alone receiving handmade items from others.

Back in primary school, kids in my city tied similar bracelets with plastic strings, but we never associated them with the idea of "friendship." They were more of a decoration or a form of luck. At that time, I did not know how to tie those bracelets, so I simply knotted one after another, resulting in crooked and skinny strings. The gift from my friend, on the other hand, was carefully tied, although it looks somewhat uneven. Nevertheless, I cherish it all the same as I wear it all the time. It soon got loose, so I wrapped it around my watch band.

In my second year, I was forced to return home due to the pandemic, and I was separated from almost all the friends I had made. Despite being elected as the new vice president of the club, I soon felt powerless working with other officers due to the time zones, physical constraints (as I was unable to practice), and academic workloads. Upon further research on the internet, I learned that friendship bracelets are associated with different colors, each carrying a specific meaning: green for responsibility, black for strength. This resonated with my current situation, and I felt a sense of unease in deep silence.

Knotting techniques can be found in different cultures around the world, with the oldest dating back to 481 to 221 B.C. in China, typically used for decoration, which is still practiced today. However, the concept of a friendship bracelet is relatively younger, having been revived in the U.S. in the 1960s, carrying a much different message than prosperity and longevity. It is believed that the bracelet should be worn all the time until it falls apart, symbolizing the appreciation of the effort made by the friend - a bracelet made to be broken.

Recently, I have been trying to learn tying techniques in the hope of replicating my bracelet. It was during this time that I realized the secret of my friendship bracelet: it can never be replicated. Delicate and worn out after almost a year, the bracelet does not follow any rules from the YouTubers but rather switches impromptu from one technique to another throughout the process. As Haim Steinbach once said, "the objects on a shelf are arranged the way words are arranged in a sentence." In the same way, we might say that this bracelet is also "arranged the way words are arranged in a sentence," with long, complex knots and short, simple ones, tied together organically.

The friendship bracelet has shown me how simple it is for one person to connect with another. The act of knotting and wrapping can be an expression of spiritual connection instead of a mechanical restraint. It is an organic creation that fluctuates and eventually wears out, rather than a repetitive symbol of tradition and history. It is a language that says, "go out and explore, as I will also do the same."

I strongly believe in living with no regrets. There was a time when I felt anger towards those who tried to define, repress, or delude me. There was also a time when guilt filled me up as I failed those who unconditionally trusted and loved me. However, from beginning to end, I do not regret anything. I enjoy taking action, exploring and connecting things, and actively taking new paths. I may not return to the days of a year ago, but the action of actively living on is certain.