helpmewithmygirlproblems

I really don’t know what to do, so maybe you can offer an opinion. Offend me, please do, because my skin is much thicker than many give me credit for. I have seen enough to be indifferent to everything and that is part of my problem. Once upon a time, there was this girl. She was sweet and always happy and overall a wonderful person. Red hair, green eyes, and a smile that went on forever. I first met her in pre-school and we first became friends in grade three. She was my only friend, as most of the other kids were either apathetic or cruel. I wasn’t a superstar, I was average and that seemed enough for her.

We became friends in grade three when we all wrote little short stories. I ripped off the plot to Superman, simplifying it and drawing pictures on every page. She introduced herself to me by walking up, saying hi, and telling me that she really liked the pictures I drew.

Two years or so later, I was out in the forest near the school, when a couple of kids assaulted me. Two held me down while a third and fourth nailed a wooden plank into my leg. Why? I don’t know. I had no friends, even pushing her away a little out of fear that she was just like the others. But that day I became hooked forever. Somehow she found me, helped take out the nails, and bandaged my wound. She said: “sometimes even Lois can help her superman.” I was just slightly past that “eeww girls” phase and right in that “girls are like anyone else” phase, right before the teenage “omg boobies” phase.

We were friends for a while, but parted ways. We lived a block away but that\’s right where the school line was. She went to one school and I went to another. This kids, is where the story changes pace a little. You see, someone saw her that day that she saved me. Someone thought it was funny that we were friends. It was one thing to be a loser like me, it was another thing entirely to want to be around a loser like me.

You’ve heard some of the rhymes… He and She sitting in a Tree, childish among others. I have heard some pretty shitty things in my life, but I never heard what they called her. I don’t know what they did or what I could have done to help, but by the second year of high-school she was dead. Suicide, they say, fancy page in the yearbook and all that shit. Her parents were great people and completely devastated. I remember hearing someone ask “why did someone write ‘goodbye, Lois’ on the register” at her funeral.

I learned later what happened. They tormented her with shit, saying how much I hated her and how much of a loose cunt she was. All the lovely language that young adolescents learn. I have spent nearly 15 years in isolation, barely making any contact with the outside world. I have my reasons, I have my dreams and ambitions, but I hold them close. Since then, I have never felt like I belonged anywhere. I am lonely, yes, but I have an entire universe that I share, in secret, with her. It’s ours, together, and although I once contemplated suicide, I don\’t really anymore.

There is no question coming, because I have nothing to ask of you or anyone else. I once thought it was something that I had to get over, find a cure for, or let go. I can’t do any of those things, it is an indelible part of me, something that will never change and never go away. And yet I seem to have lost all but the tiniest fragment of emotion, and that little fragment left I can’t understand or control. The more people that know, the better, because I can’t keep this secret anymore. And, so, I will live alone and happy with my memories.