Assignment

The loneliness spread to all the parts in my body, it took over my toes, and up my arms, it hid inside of my neck, letting my head drop back onto the head rest in the seat.  It was over whelming, how big it was, how important.  I had to stop talking, stop moving.  The words flew over me “Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness, And I would’ve stayed up with you all night, Had I known how to save a life.”  I didn’t know what was special about them, when the song had first come on I had started to sing along, but now it got to the chorus I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn’t move.  Why all of a sudden, why now, why am I so lonely?

I was sitting with all of my soccer friends.  They were the ones I can be myself around, I can talk about my extreme love for Harry Potter, or cry in front of them when I pull a muscle, or get hit too hard in the head.  Why was I so lonely when I sat with them in the car?  We were all singing along, dancing, we were having fun.  It was the kind of fun that you can only have after extreme physical exercise at ten o’clock at night.  Why was that song special, and why now?  I couldn’t remember the last time I had listened to that song.  I had probably last heard it when I was in my room, and Nicola was in her room, blasting music.  Or maybe it was when we were all talking together, down on the faded red couch, with Pandora providing the continual soft background music.

Why was I so lonely?  I’m not going through a particularly bad time with any of my friends.  In fact, I had scheduled to go see the Hunger Games with Katrina, just a few minutes earlier, right when we had gotten in the car.  Who could possibly feel lonely after arranging to go see what should be the best movie in the world with a friend (I also happen to be a Hunger Games lover).  I hadn’t seen a movie with friends since fourth grade when I went to see Alvin and the Chipmunks with a friend that I haven’t seen for about two years.  I had never had a deep connection with her, and when she moved schools I lost any connection I had ever had with her.

So what was wrong, why was it that suddenly I couldn’t hold my head up.  Why was I fighting back tears, so that Meleri wouldn’t see me crying?  I remember staying a little bit too late at the meet the teachers night at Sehome High SchoolLizzie and I had talked about acting.  There was no way that she was doing drama.  I had secretly been hoping that she would do it, so that we could join it together.  I’m not brave enough to go act by myself.  I wasn’t brave enough to act out my monologues at the firehouse if it hadn’t been for my family, constantly saying that I was missing a great opportunity.  But secretly I had wanted to do that too.  I had wanted to stand up and say what I had written; it was pretty good, so why not be proud?  I knew that mine was the best.  I wanted to show everybody that it was, I wanted there to be no doubt in their mind that I was the best.  But she said that she wasn’t doing drama.  I told her that we should do it together.  I told her how much fun the monologue thing was.  She smiled and said, I loved yours.  How could you go up there and say something so sad and depressing.  When I act things have to be funny, but I guess that I am just a funny person.

I stood there wondering about that.  I knew that she must have had sad times too.  There must’ve been nights alone where she cried in her bed, wouldn’t there have been?  Who didn’t have those nights?  I was sure that everyone suffered through them.  There is only so long you can go without crying.  Something always goes wrong.  I wasn’t counting on another crying fit, because I had had one pretty recently while skiing.  I had gotten stuck on a cliff, and cried it all out.  It had felt good, until I realized that I was still stuck on a cliff, and that was when I started to think.  That was when I started to wonder if people didn’t have to go through the same thing as I did.  What if other people didn’t cry?  What if Lizzie had never felt the way I did, usually once every three weeks to two months.

Then she said, “I mean, I’m not saying that you are a sad and serious person, or anything, you are really funny too.”  That was nice of her, but I wondered if I gave off a sort of depressed air.  What if I wasn’t funny?   Maybe I couldn’t write anything funny because I was never happy and light hearted when I wrote.  When I am lonely and sad I write.  I get everything out on the page, and then there is no need to cry.  It is that easy.  When I had acted out my monologue I had taken my feeling inside of me, and I showed them on my, face in my body expressions.  I made the audience feel them too.  I felt them deeply, and I was sure that everyone knew what I was talking about.  Wasn’t everyone in search of a best friend?

Maybe people aren’t in search of a best friend, because they don’t need one.  Maybe thy have all the friends that they want, or maybe they want to get rid of some of their friends.  Maybe people don’t think about those things, maybe they keep living their lives, never once thinking how nice it would be to always have someone there for you, to always have someone you want to hang out with.  I think about it all the time.

That is one of the reasons why I love camp.  You can find this great friend, and you can pretend that if they had lived where you live you would be best friends.  You would know that your friendship, without a doubt would bond you forever if only you lived near each other.  It is easy to fool yourself.  They were interesting, funny, inventive, what could go wrong?

Up to the minute that Lizzie said that, I was sure that Lizzie wanted a best friend.  She was always searching for a best friend, dropping old ones left and right, when she got tired of them, or she just didn’t want to spend any more time with them.  Then she would put someone else in her sights and think, “them, they are perfect, they will be my new best friend” and then she would hone in, and make them her best friend until she got tired of them again.  I was positive until then that that was why she switched from friend to friend so fast. But maybe it was an unconscious decision, maybe her automatic voice in her brain just told her to drift, maybe she is just a drifter, leaving ripples everywhere, ripples that get so stretched thin you don’t even notice them.   I am not that kind of person.  I stand there forever,  I am always there, and if I relationship ends it is because the other person started to slowly drift.

If life were on a giant lake, then I would stay in the same place, with an anchor firmly attached to the bottom, hoping against all hope that someone would move towards me, anyone.  I have often spent whole afternoons making a list of all the things I would do I had a best friend.  Sometimes I conjure up the list and try to find one activity I could do with the person I am currently hanging out with, but some of them would be impossible to do with anyone but a best friend.  I couldn’t walk five hundred miles across Spain and France with someone who wasn’t my best friend, I doubt that I could do that with someone who was my best friend, but we could still dream about it together.

I have often wondered if maybe there is a reason that I don’t have a best friend.  What if I’m just not funny enough?  Would if I have a best friend, and it is right in front of me, in my face?  What if I don’t deserve a best friend?  What if people don’t like me?  Or worst of all, what if I am just too sad?  What if Lizzie was right, what if I have too much of feeling of sadness, and not enough happiness.

Realisticly I don’t think there is anything terribly wrong with me other than that I haven’t made a connection with anyone I have ever meet yet.  I can make friends pretty quickly, and people ask me to hang out and they laugh at my jokes.  I think that all of my friendship skills are working.

Because of my lack of best friend to watch the sunset with I love to walk my dog on the boardwalk on sunny days when the sunset will be beautiful.  The last time I was walking there I saw all of my friends walking on the boardwalk as well.  It was astonishing that they were there, and I was there, and we weren’t together.  I was always invited to those things, and then about a month ago I stopped getting texts asking to meet people at the village green.  One of the things that my friend group does is send out mass texts to everyone they can think of and ask them to meet them at the village green.  This is a great system for everyone because nearly everyone can walk there, everyone knows where it is, and then it isn’t as formal, and you no one needs to worry about having to be the host.  We walk around look at all the shops, and stop at Woods to get a coffee or tea, just so you can hang out in there on the couches next to the big fire.  I never particularly enjoyed these occasions.  Sometimes they were fun, depending on the people there.  Most of the time it was waste of money and time and it was usually at twelve on Sundays, and at the time I was skiing.  But I always received the texts.  It was important to me that I was part of my friend group, I had the option of coming and I sometimes I would.

When I stopped eating at their lunch table the texts stopped.  I always thought that people had stopped hanging out because we were playing volleyball now, or because it was too cold.  I had of course, forgotten about last year when I went when it was snowing, hailing, and raining.  The time that it was snowing none of us wanted to buy anything, so we walked around in the cold, until finally someone offered to buy a side of potato wedges at the colophon so we could get out of the cold.  By that time my nose had nearly fallen off from the cold, so it was silly of me to assume that they wouldn’t hang out if it were below sixty degrees.  I don’t know why I was so shocked when I saw them hanging out without me, but it was like part of me was ripped out, the part that had been in there from the time when I first met them in first grade.  Had the forgotten the last eight years in the last two months?  Was that possible?

Maybe that was why I couldn’t hold my head up last night, because I knew that my friends no longer thought about me, so tonight I am going to start again.  I’m not going to let their walks in Fairhaven stop me.  I will start over again, with a group of friends who wont forget me, alone, leaving me to cry on the way home from soccer.

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2 Comments

  1. I don’t know if you’ve ever been stuck in a washing machine, but if you are ever interested in discovering what it feels like, reread that. Actually, don’t read into that comment too much, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Like I was sad, and then I was sad again, each time the machine spun. And I don’t mean that that’s bad. I almost like feeling melacholy a little bit. I don’t really think it’s bad to be a little bit sad. I think that’s probably weird, but it feels just so surreal to me that it’s enchanting. Anyways, clearly this is a tangent, but whatever. You are definitely not a depressing and sad person. You are real, and that’s what makes your writing so captivating. It’s okay to have a little bit of sadness, I think.
    Also, I have a friend who says that everyone has a story, everyone has pain, and some people are just really good at hiding it.
    Maybe it’s okay to seem either way.

    Reply
  2. I didn’t mean I like feeling sad. I don’t, but I don’t think it’s always a bad thing.

    Reply

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