First let me say that I think I have opened this blogger page to add an entry about 4 times in the last week. I just drew a blank everytime I opened it. I'd close it out, and then while waiting to fall asleep I'd think of something cool to write about. Only it was gone by morning. Oh well, easy come, easy go...
I had a best friend in high school. She was the opposite of me (I wonder if opposite friends attract like oppostie couples?) I was shy and sweet and a little innocent. She was outgoing, loud, bright and fun to be around. But our friendship worked. We hung out doing everything together - sports, classes, summers... Then we decided to go to the same college and live together. She was what I thought would be my forever friend. The friend that you'd have at 60 who knew everything about you.
Only it wasn't meant to be. What I can see now that I'm removed from it all, is that she wasn't a nice person. She'd do things to get ahead that were cruel and mean.
One summer I told her about the job application I put in and the intereview I had at a shop near my home. She asked more about it, in what I thought was happiness for me. Well I never got called about the job after the interviewer said that I was perfect for it. And a short time later, my friend was always busy. Turns out she applied for the job after I did, sweet talked her way in and worked there for the summer. I ended up getting a job that was a little farther away from home, but paid a little more. When the job she had quit, saying, 'didn't work out' I suggested her for an opening where I worked. She started working, but then quit because 'it wasn't working out'.
In college she would meet new people easily and I'd end up hanging around them too. I found out that she was talking behind my back to a lot of them. We'd go to different dorms and she'd party (I didn't drink then) it up. When it was time to go home I'd help her get safely home across campus. Only she was verbally and physically abusive. She'd yell at me for telling her what to do. She'd hit, punch and kick me. One time she tried slamming my arm in a heavy door. I had bruises for weeks. She'd apologize the next morning.
She'd have her boyfriend in our room constantly. His roommate didn't like her so they were always over at our room. They'd being doing the deed all. the. time. Finally one night I asked her not to keep doing that and she said it was her room too. She and said boyfriend ruined many a quilt of mine in their nightly sessions by using it to clean up with. Yuk. But she'd deny it to my face and say that it must have been something I'd spilled on it.
She read my journal. Then deicded to use the things in their against me. She told everyone about it in the dining hall one day when I wasn't there. She was mostly mad that I knew that her boyfriend slept with another friend of ours before they became exclusive. She confronted that friend in a big group one day - turning her anger on her, instead of the boyfriend.
She never came back to school second year. We had planned to live together, only she never showed up and never told me why. Then she called asking me to keep an eye on her boyfriend.
I had it by then. I was done. College went on and I made many friends and had a great time and graduated. Then moved home again to job seek. I'd run into her or her family now and then, but they'd snub me. At one point I felt like I never ever got to say to her all the things that she did hurt me. I never got to tell her how badly she treated me. And I never got to tell her that I must have done some things wrong too and was sad that the friendship ended like it did. I sent her that in a letter. And never heard from her.
Karma's a bitch
This friend is in the news. Like on the TV at 10pm in the news. She's a high school teacher for a living. And she reportedly harassed a student about his supposed sexual orientation. The sad part is that I can see her saying the things that were reported. I can see the sneer on her face. The smile on her lips and the tilt of her head. Maybe because I've been the person on the other end of that, way back then. Maybe it's because I can still feel the sharp sting of the inmpact of her words. Maybe it's because I'm a wee bit happy that she is finally getting something for what she did to me.
And there is the guilt. In no way should I be happy about someone else's misfortune. But a small part of me does.