Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Janie's Got a Gun---Not Really---but it seemed like a funny title...

When I was in grade school, I had this friend.  We’re going to call her Jane. When she wanted to be, Jane was a great friend.  She was funny and had all of the coolest stuff.  We had known each other since we were little, and often had the same teachers.  We were even placed in the same ‘hall’ at Woodland.

Jane was an only child, not by choice, but by unfortunate consequence. Her elder sibling was killed in an accident.  This affected her for quite some time. The accident in question involved a motorcycle—something she was very sensitive to.  I understand this sensitivity now, but at 11 years old, it’s somewhat hard to understand what a loss can do to a person.  For example, the word motorcycle couldn’t be uttered.  Ever.  If any of you know me, you know that I grew up in a household where motorcycles pretty much were part of our everyday lives (well, when it was warm outside).  Thus, many of my conversations were surrounded by my weekend activities—which often included motorcycle rides with my dad.   That being said, I often forgot that the topic was unmentionable around her—and screwed up, repeatedly.  After awhile though, the use of the word almost seemed as if it was a reason for her to get mad at me.  A reason for her to alienate and treat me badly.

I remember a specific conversation at lunch, although I am not able to repeat it word for word, I remember sitting at the table, talking about something when I said ‘Motor—cy----cl—‘

I realized as soon as I had said it, that I had made a mistake.  Her eyes got big. With one swift move, she turned her back to me, and didn’t speak or turn around for the rest of the lunch period. She continued the time, chatting with others, while I sat at the end of the table, speaking to no one. When things like this happened, it was almost as if she got enjoyment from pretending I didn’t exist. She did interesting things, like latched on to a mutual friend that we had---and then convinced her to torment me.  They’d write mean letters and leave them in my locker.  They would sit together on the bus for a field trip, in the seat right across from me—and point and laugh. Granted, I sat with other people, I wasn’t a complete loner that didn’t have any friends at all, but they still made a point to make it known, they were trying to be mean.  In the beginning, I was very hurt.  I would apologize for no reason, I would try overly hard to be her friend.  I would be sugary sweet…because I couldn’t stand not being liked.  It was like this fiery ball at the very bottom of my stomach, extending all the way to the top of my chest.  It was there, and I hated it.  As time passed, she continued to show her character. We’d go to these Friday night dances as a group, and then she would run away from me.  It was almost like a game. The dance would end, and I would run to my dad, who stood at the bottom of the stairs in front of the school.  I would cry all the way home.

She would tell lies about me, and tell her mother that I was a bad person.  So we’d be called into these peer mediation meetings, where I would pretty much get harped on the entire time.  I’m not sure when it happened, but something finally just snapped inside me…where I realized I didn’t want to her friend anymore…and that she was a terrible, mean little girl. So I lost it in one of these meetings---and told them, in a very polite, 11 year old way, that Jane was full of bullshit.

We eventually parted ways, and didn't speak to each other any longer. In 7th grade she moved away. Before she left, everyone wrote her a message in a card. I wrote: "I'm sorry we couldn't be friends, wish you the best of luck in the future."  The years went on, and high school came and went.  When Facebook became popular, she friend requested me one day. I accepted.  There was some communication back and forth---and then, one day, she just unfriended me.  Which really didn't upset me much.  It just confirmed that Jane was, who I always knew she was: A Psycho.

This is where I'm going to end this story----

You're probably wondering where this is going, and for a moment there, I did too.  Afterall, I have been writing this blog for like a week now.  Mostly because I am not sure how to say what I want to say.  So stay tuned.....

Hint for the second chapter of this blog...

Personal Character---and maintaining relationships with others.



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