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more story about old friend
3 months ago
I received a lot of responses. Everyone is different, but I am surprised that there are so many people in this community whose feelings are stirred up by my words. I am the one who ultimately decides my own affairs, but I don't find the responses annoying. people usually hesitate to say such things, so I thought that this would be a place to share such words and feelings. I read all of the replies, but I apologize for not being able to respond adequately to all of them because I am not a native speaker, my memory has deteriorated with age, and I have become dull to words themselves.
I still have a story to tell, so I will write it. It's about a school friend I knew since I was about 5 years old. Now that I'm an adult, I have a lot to think about. I heard that her mother was an alcoholic and died when we were 10 years old. We were friends, but now that I think about it, I think I used her house as a place to play games rather than as an important friend. (Because long hours of gaming were prohibited in my house) She lived with her father and had a dog that her mother left behind, which was never washed or taken outside and always sat in front of the newspaper to catch the urine and feces. The dog was smelly and I felt dirty. It is impossible for a 10-year-old child to take good care of a dog. As an adult, I realized that she and the dog still loved each other even the relation is neglect thing, and I regretted my shallowness as a child. Like many single-parent people, she was still a dropout and was in a dropout group like me for a long time. My mother made her lunch for her instead of her mother. (My mother was abusive but also kind.) And after I left my hometown, and I rarely saw her.
Last year, when there was a group reunion, I contacted her, but she said, "I'm glad you want to meet me, but I'm scared of so many people. So I can't go." I also asked her to meet privately, but she didn't reply. Just as I expected, she had become very introverted and antisocial. Like someone who had nothing.
Today, I told my mother about her. My mother said, "I can't forget that when I told her thanks the friendship about you a long time ago, she said, 'She has more friends than me, so she will okay.'" I realized as an adult that I was blessed and had been treating people like her lightly. And society is certainly one that leaves out those who are "weaker than I can imagine" first.
And, as cruel as this may be, it hurts me less when I feel rejected by her, than when I feel rejected by people who are "better off" than me and have more. I just have a vague doubt in my heart and friendship, and I let that guilt flutter in the wind like a flag. Even though I still harbor anger toward the successful people who discarded me. So I don't hate her like such a people. I care her, but it's still small. Don't you think that's cruel? I think it's cruel. It's my animal nature, and the fact that I'm the only one who sees it.
I have emotional scars and I can't make art to my satisfaction, but I still have my parents and there are people who respond to my FA. I want to be grateful for this, but at the same time I feel guilty about her. This time I created a journal to spit out such stories.
I still have a story to tell, so I will write it. It's about a school friend I knew since I was about 5 years old. Now that I'm an adult, I have a lot to think about. I heard that her mother was an alcoholic and died when we were 10 years old. We were friends, but now that I think about it, I think I used her house as a place to play games rather than as an important friend. (Because long hours of gaming were prohibited in my house) She lived with her father and had a dog that her mother left behind, which was never washed or taken outside and always sat in front of the newspaper to catch the urine and feces. The dog was smelly and I felt dirty. It is impossible for a 10-year-old child to take good care of a dog. As an adult, I realized that she and the dog still loved each other even the relation is neglect thing, and I regretted my shallowness as a child. Like many single-parent people, she was still a dropout and was in a dropout group like me for a long time. My mother made her lunch for her instead of her mother. (My mother was abusive but also kind.) And after I left my hometown, and I rarely saw her.
Last year, when there was a group reunion, I contacted her, but she said, "I'm glad you want to meet me, but I'm scared of so many people. So I can't go." I also asked her to meet privately, but she didn't reply. Just as I expected, she had become very introverted and antisocial. Like someone who had nothing.
Today, I told my mother about her. My mother said, "I can't forget that when I told her thanks the friendship about you a long time ago, she said, 'She has more friends than me, so she will okay.'" I realized as an adult that I was blessed and had been treating people like her lightly. And society is certainly one that leaves out those who are "weaker than I can imagine" first.
And, as cruel as this may be, it hurts me less when I feel rejected by her, than when I feel rejected by people who are "better off" than me and have more. I just have a vague doubt in my heart and friendship, and I let that guilt flutter in the wind like a flag. Even though I still harbor anger toward the successful people who discarded me. So I don't hate her like such a people. I care her, but it's still small. Don't you think that's cruel? I think it's cruel. It's my animal nature, and the fact that I'm the only one who sees it.
I have emotional scars and I can't make art to my satisfaction, but I still have my parents and there are people who respond to my FA. I want to be grateful for this, but at the same time I feel guilty about her. This time I created a journal to spit out such stories.
I have at least 3 classmates from primary school who have sought me and tried to talk to me, maybe to connect with me again. I have a feeling that they're lonely, and because we weren't enemies back in the days of brutal school bullying, this was good enough to feel like we were friends. Sadly, I don't feel any connection to them. Our time is in the past, and we are too different. In the end, I have decided to build my life with new, different friends that I met later in life and I feel a much stronger connection to.
It's interesting how life ebbs and flows, and how other people perceive us. Thank you for sharing this little memory treasure with us 🙏
I don't think there is any need to romanticize them either. Just as the power of the strong to overwrite is strong and violent, the feelings toward the forgotten weak also must to be "awe and repose" rather than mourning or romanticization. It all comes down to the question of how we continue to deal with suffering and mistakes.