Having friends and being known are not always the same thing.  I’ve been turning this sentiment over and over in my mind. It’s the kid others see walking and talking with friends between classes, seemingly having found their people. Their place. Their tribe. Yet they come home and cry because they are lonely. Crying because these are supposed to be some of the best years of their life, yet they just want them to be over. It’s the kid who has “friends,” but spends three months of summer uninvited to social events or even a simple hangout. The kid who waits for friendly text messages that will never come. The…