12:28 am - September 24, 2006
Reading Chuck Palahniuk.
I lost my best friend in June. Now, don't worry, she's not dead, she's doing quite well. In fact, just got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Ah, the joys of MySpace, keeping people in touch arbitrarily.
She'd been my best friend for the past six years, since we met in beginning french class. I'm not much of a trusting person, and I'd recently been through something that shook me even more. She spent years promising, forcing me to believe that someday we'd be little old ladies who were still best friends. That she was the one person who would always be there for me, no matter what. Even if we had a fight or something, she would always be my best friend and vice versa.
No, I mean she stopped being my friend. We didn't have a fight. There was nothing, one day we were talking and then, the next, I realized it'd been a week since she'd called me or returned my calls. And now it's been three months. I called and left nice little messages the first two months before I gave up, cheery little things with lots of "Hey, what's up? Let's hang out." I sent emails asking if she had something going on in her life, that I'd always be ready to listen.
I haven't heard anything back.
Thanks again, to Myspace, I know that she's been going out with other friends of mine partying almost every weekend. So, no, no moment of personal crisis made her turn her back on all friends. (They've been posting blogs about the crazy fun times they've had.)
That sounds pretty sour grapes, because it is. I'm unable to make sense of any of this. I'm mad, sad, fatalistic, a reborn believer in Karmic retribution, you name it.
I don't know how to handle the person who loved me stopping and I don't know why I wasn't good enough anymore. I don't know what I did wrong. I feel so afraid to let anyone know me or be myself anymore because I don't want to be sad when they figure out what's wrong with me and leave.
It's really lonely.
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