I mentioned in my first post, that since my birthday I'd grown up and realised a few truths. One of those involved an old friend. Well, used-to-be-friend? Let me explain.
There was a girl, who years and years ago I was the absolute most, best, friends with. We were besties from primary school right up until early high school. About 7 years I'd say. We even survived moving schools and different friends. A fond memory I have, which I guess isn't a specific memory but nontheless, was us being in grade 1 or 2, and after spending the whole day together at school, still calling each other up at the end of the night to talk more. I mean, come on, how much do 7 year olds have to say to each other?
Then puberty came along. Well, call it puberty, call it growing up, changing, what you like. My side of the story is that I felt she was changing. In particular, a certain friend of hers, I felt was making her change, making her act differently, making her, not... her.
And I must admit. I was probably jealous. Upset by the fact that this was a new friend that she was hanging out with a lot. It didn't help that her new friend was quite frankly, a bitch. Yes, she was quite up herself and derogatory in her comments and general demeanour. So the story was, I didn't like her, or her influence on my bestie.
But I kept quiet. And instead vented in my diary. I'd kept a diary for years and loved the therapeutic benefits of storytelling my life. Much the reason why I've started blogging. Sadly I feel like I don't have time for old-fashioned diary writing in my life anymore, which is why the convenience of having a computer at work has helped me start blogging.
So one day, after an overseas trip I had taken with my parents, my bestie had come over so I could give her a low down on my trip, in particular any guy gossip that may have occurred.....?
I was still shy and old-fashioned. No I hadn't picked up while I was there, although there had been guy situations, but nothing like what she expected.
So I felt a bit of her disappointment, already in that short time of her visit. She was already "experienced" in the art of picking up, or that was how she portrayed it, probably due to her bitchy friend. So her stage of life was far advanced to mine, or that was how I was made to feel.
Anyway, I was going through my diary to jog my memory, recounting the holiday to her, when I was called for lunch. I remember this next moment clearly. We were both sitting on my bed. I left the diary on my bed. Unlocked but closed. It had one of those little locks which you needed a key to open, however the lock went around a metal hook, in order to keep the pages hidden and safe from being read. And I very clearly remember the book being slightly propped up by the hook, but it was still closed. I guess it's hard to envisage if you haven't had one of these diaries, but you get the picture.
And I walked away, leaving her alone in my room.
When I came back, 15 minutes later, I sat back down on the bed to continue my holiday recounting process. And noticed the hook part of the diary had "slipped." It was now not propping up the book's pages, the book was fully closed, with the hook slightly on the side.
This was not a hook that could move by itself. Even shuffling around on a bed could not move it. It had been moved.
Which only meant one thing. She had read my diary.
And I knew it. She was different. Quiet. Contemplative. Short answers, small conversation.
I didn't say a thing. Acted normal. I ended up walking her to her house, sussing out her body language. We said goodbye as normal. Said we'd talk again and catch up soon. And that was it.
That was the last day she was my best friend.
I thought about it that night. She had read my diary. Not only had she read it, invading my personal space and betraying my trust, but ironically, in doing so she had discovered MY betrayal of her. For within those pages I had had bursts of rage, both at her and at her friend. She would have seen this undoubtedly, on my "graffiti page" where I just wrote random thoughts and feelings as teens do on their school folders and pencil cases.
I know I could have called her. I could have confronted her about it, or I could have explained myself. But I chose to stay quiet. I didn't like the person she had become, and I was angry.
Days, weeks, months past. Not one of us made an effort to contact the other. A mutual friend of ours (well, more my friend, as she was my OTHER best friend, who went to her high school) spoke to her, and it seems the gist of it was that I wasn't calling, so why should she?
We were in a battle of who cared most to break down the stubborn barrier.
In fact, sadly, we never did make up. Our relationship remained as it was, unfinished, undefined, up-in-the-air. We hadn't even had a proper fight to warrant not speaking. I had chosen her betrayal, and also her changing personality, to just give up. She had undoubtedly chosen MY betrayal, to stand her ground. And so, a great friendship of 7 years, just disappeared.
There was minimal contact. On my birthday the following year, she contacted me to wish me a happy birthday. I said we should catch up in the next few weeks. But I never called her. And she took that as rejection. I wasn't ready, and the wounds were still fresh. I was still upset.
Then when her birthday came around, I was ready. I called to wish her a happy birthday, just as she had done for me the previous year. This time she said it: "We should catch up in the next few weeks, I'll call you."
I knew what that really meant. It was as if I could hear her inner voice speaking out to me over her audible voice, saying "stuff you, you can wait now."
And I was right, she didn't call.
But what happened years later? Something I never would've expected. A place I'd never have expected myself to be........ To be Continued
No comments:
Post a Comment