Diary Excerpt #2: Mending Fences

She never used to look at me the way she did at the end. I knew she was growing to despise me. 

The ocean is black, so they say, and only reflects the blue of the sky. This is what I would do with her. I let her admire herself in my eyes. She would look into them as she listened to herself talk, and she would see the reflection of the person she and I both hated.

Hurt people hurt people.

I used to wish that I would beat her to it. I knew the end was impending, and I just wanted to be the one to end it. I think she knew that I knew, as much as I tried to hide it. The disgust would ripple across my face, and it was entirely too clear. Eventually, she had to make my decision for me; I was too cowardly to tell her. I think she hated me because of this. 

- I can’t believe you’d do this.

- What?

- You know what I’m talking about.

- What are you on about? Is this a joke? If so, wow man, you really got me.

- Shut up. It wasn’t your business. Stop it.

- Okay. Got it. Will stop. Whatever it is.

- I got this notebook today. It’s leather. It’s really cool. Last one on the shelf.

- I said stop and shut up. I don’t care anymore.

- Well okay.

A week ago, she messaged me and asked about English homework. I responded, despite us not having talked in two years. One conversation led to another, and we were up until 4:00 A.M. just chatting about TV shows, films, school, classmates: everything you would talk about when catching up with an old friend.

The next day, we did the same. Throughout the conversation, though, I felt odd. I had felt this oddness the day before, too. Her and I were in a delicate dance of tiptoeing around the fact that we had been best friends.
This time, I had the courage to say it.

- This might be random or off-topic, but I have to say it. Talking to you again is strange. It’s like I'm speaking to a stranger but also the same exact person I was best friends with. You’re a stranger but I still know everything about you.

- No, I get what you mean. I feel the same. It’s kind of crazy.

- It’s just a weird feeling of nostalgia. And also learning new things about someone you knew inside and out just a year ago.

- I know it might feel like I'm still the same but I believe I've changed.

  It’s also kind of crazy how we started talking because I asked you about English homework. It’s like deja vu? But not, at the same time?

- It feels like talking to the same person I used to know and also a completely different person at the same time.

- Sorry. I know neither of us are really fond of ‘genuine’ conversations. I just felt like you were thinking the same thing or at least something similar, and every time we chatted I felt like we were just pretending we weren’t best friends.

- No, it’s good. I’m glad you did. I wouldn’t have.

- Talking to you is still the same. I don’t know how to explain it.

- That’s okay.

- It feels like nothing happened except we just grew a little bit.

- I agree.

- I remember when we would talk about growing up together or maturing together, and at the time I thought it was all real. I never expected anything to turn out the way it did, but now we're kind of talking again and it's weird yet nice and nostalgic at the same time.

- And I have to say—I’ve been meaning to say it but I didn’t know the time for it. I am sorry about how our friendship ended. We were kids; I don’t know what we were thinking. I remember I sent you a dumb message. It was so dumb. I am really sorry man. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t think I’ll ever have a friendship like the one we had.

- 'I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve.'

- “Jesus, does anyone?”

- Stand By Me’s a great movie.

- Yeah.

- I’m sorry. It was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.

- It’s okay. I forgave you a long time ago.

It was a lie: a blatant lie. I never forgave her. As she apologised, I felt satisfaction. I was glad she was hurt. I wanted her to feel how I felt, if only a fraction. 

The fact that this interaction happened over text frustrated me. I wanted to look into her eyes for once. I wanted to tell her how much she’d hurt me. I wanted to see her eyes glaze over as she tried to hide the hurt. I wanted to see the shock? Remorse? Anger? 

Whatever emotions they were, I wanted to see it. I felt better when I saw someone else in the same pain I was in. I was hurting, and I wanted her to hurt too. If she had punched me in the face, it would have electrified me to know that I had elicited such emotions from her. 

- I’ve been meaning to say that for a while.

- I never thought you wanted to. 

- Yeah?

- Yeah. It’s surreal to me that I'm even having this conversation. I thought I’d never speak to you again, and part of me wanted that.

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

- It’s nice to have an apology after so much time. I appreciate it.

- I’ll keep saying it. You deserve it.

- You owe it to me.

- I know. I’m sorry.