So, because I'm still in a somewhat crappy mood from last night, I'm going to do another post of personal pet peeves of my past. Actually, just one in particular. And it's the one that I think hurts the most because I have to face it almost everyday on social networking sites.
I've stated before in the previous post that I don't trust my dog to not piddle on the floor as I'm taking him outside to do his business. That's just a small taste of my serious trust issues, which I'd like to believe began with that one event that (I firmly believe) changed my life forever.
In elementary school, I had a best friend who shared the same first name as I. So, because of that, we attempted to find outfits that matched. We would call each other the night before and coordinate our attire to make it seem like we were twins. And like twins, we had a lot of similarities. We liked video games, we liked Pokemon, we watched the same TV shows, and we loved to draw. Yet, also like twins, we also had a lot of opposing traits. She was very athletic, able to do cartwheels with just one hand. She would play soccer with the boys during recess, she was on a local baseball team, she was a risk taker, a total tomboy. And, believe it or else, I was more close to a girly girl than ever before in my life. I wore pink, wore skirts, I liked boys, my favorite thing to do was WALK AROUND THE PLAYGROUND DEEP IN THOUGHT. This is not to say everything I did was of a stereotypical girl. I enjoyed the swings, I drew things for other people because they knew I was good. I even one time colored in a truck completely in black, something that was a "guy thing" back then (which surprisingly none of the boys had actually colored in their ENTIRE truck in black so they were fawning over me~).
Anyway, back to the matter at hand. What I remember most, despite all these things I've mentioned in great detail, were the sleepovers. We had them constantly, alternating between each others' houses. We played with Bratz and Barbies, traded Pokemon cards, played a video game... We were inseparable.
Or... so I thought. That little bubble of perfection was soon popped and opened my eyes to the truth. And it was during my homeschool years, I believe. We arranged to have a double sleepover, at her house first and then she'd come sleep at my house the following day. It was a genius idea and we were eager for those days to arrive. I don't even remember the day and a half I spent at her house. I assume we had a good time, but it's importance has been lost with time. Because it was the second part of the sleepover at my house that mattered the most.
The night of the sleepover at my house we were negotiating and trading Pokemon cards. Some we refused to give up because they were too valuable to us. We didn't trade based on stats; we traded based on the quality of the pictures on the cards. If they weren't appealing to our eyes, we wouldn't trade for them. So, naturally, some trades didn't occur because of that. Eventually, though, we were content with what we had and retired for the night and our game would resume the following morning. Around noon, her mother had arrived and she obliged to help me clean up. Our teamwork quickly tidied up the house and she left. I was satisfied, I was content, happy... I picked up the book which held all the cards I had ever collected and, as a favorite pastime of mine, I looked through the pages to gaze at the beautiful pictures.
And then I was horrified. Of course I panicked and looked everywhere I could but the missing cards were no where to be found. Did they get lost in the shuffle of all our fun? Could it have been a mistake? Three calls were made to her household; on the third count her mother warned her it would be the last call ever made on the matter. Then, finally, she caved and revealed where the missing cards were stashed.
In the pages of her Bible.
I'd like to say I immediately cut ties with her and pushed her out of my life, but, unfortunately, I still believed there was some good in her. So, as a result of my ignorance, four additional thefts occurred. A video game, dolls (which were returned of her own accord), a suspected stolen movie, and bobble headed animals. THEN, and only until that very moment of the morning when I discovered the missing bobble heads, did I severe the small threads of hope for good. And for the next several years, I was happier.
Until her image popped back up around freshman year on the social networking site, Facebook. She friended me, commented on statuses and pictures... as though nothing had changed between us. As though we were still friends. Seeking me out, as she had done to instigate our first meeting, and then forcing me to push her away because of her own actions. And now she wishes to rebuild what was lost.
My mother wishes for me to forgive her, to pity because she's a lost little soul with her tattoos and piercings. She's crying for help, she says, you shouldn't keep holding this grudge. And as sympathetic of a person I am and how non-shallow minded I am, I refuse. I refuse to throw aside the memories just to be hurt again. The scars hurt at the sight of her and I'm afraid it will take an entire lifetime before I can feel maybe even an inkling of pity or forgiveness. I'm not the one who screwed up, who separated us and ruined the friendship that we had. I suppose, more than anything, I'm waiting for an apology.
In the meantime, I can't have my mind dwell on the pain she has caused me. I can't let her control my life just because she is a lost soul in need of guidance. I have learned my lesson and I have already moved on. I don't want to live in the past.
So, that's what I think made me so guarded and not trusting. It may also be why I don't open up my feelings and true thoughts to people. I don't know, it makes me sound like a helpless victim. It's not as if I still don't do what I love or that I don't have friends. In fact, I'd say I have thrived and grown these past few years. I'm still standing. I'm still capable of trust. I'm still me. :)
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