This is not fiction.
It's a memory.
A group of words meant to sink into the deepest part of my being.
Hm?
Is that really the case? Is that the whole truth?
So many questions you and I surely have in mind. So why is this a memory?
To remind me how much of a degenerate I am?
Why?
"Still asking questions?"
Let's begin.
It was when I was 18, my first year of university.
I was afraid I wouldn't make any friends at that point, since the people I knew from high school, "my friends," had all gone their separate ways.
I was in the same city as some of them, but we never saw each other, too busy facing this new phase of our lives. That's what led to the end of all contact between us. Well — between them and me.
I met her that day, she was pressed against the wall in front of our classroom.
"Wait, PAUSE!!!"
It would be good to rewind a little to explain how I found my classroom without having done any campus tour beforehand.
A huge campus, like a labyrinth, with several wide, or large, or both, buildings.
Each one with its own function.
I think I relied on the campus map available online, along with the room and building name, to find my way around campus without any trouble.
And once I'd finally found my building, I just followed the signs to find my room.
There's a flaw I've often wished I had at key moments in my life.
This much-coveted flaw is simple: having a terrible sense of direction.
The irony of this wish is that I've always wanted to go on treasure hunts like the ones shown on TV in cartoons, ever since I was little, but even though I was never able to actually play that game, I did get a certain equivalent once I was a bit more grown up.
It was in high school, my first year if I remember right, that we did an orienteering session in P.E. where we had to find the different markers listed on our sheet, using a map of the park where we had our outdoor sports classes, and stamp each box to confirm we'd found the marker in question.
Because each marker's stamp had a different shape.
I really enjoyed that day, since I had a lot of fun.
But that only means I can find my way with directions of any kind, and a map if needed, without too much trouble.
All this rambling off-topic just to express my frustration at never being able to get lost one day without actually trying to.
Without meaning to.
Let's come back now to the moment I met her — her back was against the wall, and despite the group of students around, it was clear she was completely alone.
So I went up to her and slumped against the wall beside her.
I was looking for something to talk about so I could approach her without seeming abrupt, and luckily I had one nagging at my mind.
So I asked her what had happened at the pre-term orientation meeting, the week before, which I had missed for justifiable reasons — the one where they were also supposed to explain where each building was and what it was for.
From what I understood of what she said in that moment, it wasn't anything important. She didn't put it that way, but that's how I understood what she was telling me.
I hadn't missed a thing.
Several weeks later
To make this memory easier to follow, let's call the one I met at the start of term 'M.'
M and I quickly grew close, even becoming friends, so my fear of ending up alone at university no longer existed.
For a few weeks I had noticed a certain person, but since sometimes she was with someone and other times not, I didn't know how to approach her.
But one day I did, too curious to find out whether she came from where I'm from.
She confirmed it, and little by little we started getting closer, forming a group of three: M, her, and me.
She often talked to me about her friend, whose visa still hadn't come through, who was also supposed to join our program. So we don't get lost, let's call her 'A' and her friend 'N.'
N arrived 2 or 3 months later; A made sure we ended up in the same class.
So M, A, N, and I became a group of four, with the occasional small exception, but that's not so important.
Now it's time for my mea culpa, in a way.
I always found the relationship I had with A strange. I admit it, I felt a slight attraction to her, but I tended to make sure it didn't show too much.
But sometimes, when I felt like it was getting too hard, in a way, to "control" myself, I'd try to direct my attention more toward N, without necessarily setting A aside.
I am a very touchy person with people I care about, but because of my attraction to A, I channeled all that need for attention through touch toward N instead.
I'm not mentioning M, because due to problems a member of her family was dealing with, she couldn't touch anyone at all, to avoid any kind of microorganism that could harm that family member. It took me a while to get used to not being able to just pull into my arms a person I know and care about. But eventually I did manage to make my brain understand that everything's fine even without contact — you can appreciate someone in ways other than touch.
The days go by, the months too, and then we each went our own way.
A continued on into second year, and so did M — who, however, decided in the end it just wasn't for her.
N repeated her year once more, then switched programs at the end of it.
As for me, I found the classes interesting, but I quickly realized that wasn't enough to keep me going. So as soon as the year ended, I decided to switch to a different program — easier and less stressful for me.
A, N, and I would sometimes go out to spend time together, since we barely saw each other because of our completely different schedules. And M couldn't really join, because of her family member's condition and because she lived too far away — it just wasn't possible.
And every time we went out, I still felt that strange feeling between A and me.
Now we're going to jump forward in time — it's my story, so I'll do as I please.
About 4 years after we first met at university, and because of several circumstances, I finally decided to admit the feelings I had for A — first to myself, and then to her.
I wasn't really expecting anything from her.
But talking it through with my street-corner psychologist, my bitch, my bestie "P," and a victim, a.k.a. another friend "U," I realized I was actually waiting for a response from her.
I wanted her to crush whatever hope I might still have been carrying deep down. I sometimes have trouble knowing what I feel.
I really needed her to do that, because I felt handcuffed to the situation, which I obviously didn't like. And I also didn't want to come across as pushy, forceful, just to get her to give me what I wanted — what I hoped for so badly.
"But I'm afraid of seeming pushy and forceful..." — Me
"You don't really have a choice..." — P
We — P and I, since we share the same brain — decided to ask A once more for a clear, straightforward answer, and according to U, I needed to be more direct and more expressive about my feelings.
During my confession, I never said the 3 words to her, only that I felt something — "feelings" — for her.
So we went ahead and did it. The "we," of course, is figurative. They're my feelings, it's my confession. I had to act on it alone, but the thought of being able to say "we" instead of "I" let me feel a little less alone in the situation.
But it was me who had to speak up. Not "we."
My fears turned out to be true — she felt pressured despite all my precautions, but that's not the important part.
What matters is what she told me, and what I told her.
So...
We...
Well...
Actually, it was me who decided that...
...
Curious?
...
Me too.
...
Let's talk about me for a bit,
I have a project.
(Abrupt change of subject? I know.)
Once I'm stable and "fully" independent, I'd like to go far away and stay close at the same time.
But the two really aren't compatible. So I have to go far away. Very far.
I don't know when or how, but it's not the right time yet.
'Soon...'
I have to leave the people I love, so as not to complicate anything, to avoid breaking the people around me even more, and above all, to stop breaking myself further.
What does A have to do with this project?
Everything and nothing, all at once.
To leave something behind, you have to separate from the people who were part of that thing.
Are you following me?
Did I lose you? Haha.
It's simple — I told her I wanted us to end our friendship and block each other everywhere.
Because of a broken heart? No.
I wasn't expecting a favorable answer from her, and she granted that wish.
So why, then?
For the simple and good reason that, during our conversation, I realized that for my project, I needed to end that friendship. For my own sake.
Selfish? I know.
I had to be even more selfish when I realized "N" was, unfortunately, going to become... collateral damage.
That our friendship had to end too.
I tried to reach her 3 times, hoping I might hear her voice one last time. But it just wasn't my day.
But at the end of each missed call, I left her a voicemail.
To sum it up, in all three, I told her how precious she'd been to me throughout all our years together, and that I wish her nothing but happiness.
Of course, I didn't forget to tell her who I'd confessed my feelings to, and the reasons behind my drastic decision.
The only thing I regret in this whole story is the end of the friendship between N and me.
Because she truly was precious every time I wanted to brush it off, telling myself I was just imagining what I felt for A — I'd quietly pour all my attention, without pushing anyone else aside, onto her. Onto our friendship, so precious.
It was a way for me to remind myself, every time, that just like N, A was my friend too.
She brought me peace, deep down, without even knowing it.
Because I no longer had that feeling of being a hypocrite, of having ridiculous, sordid thoughts about a friend.
She helped me so much that I tried my best to tell her just how precious she'd been to me throughout all those years of agony.
I'm going to miss her so much — the irony of this whole story is that the person who had almost nothing to do with my confession, the person we could have spared, is the one I regret losing the most, the one who actually managed to bring a few tears to my eyes.
And she's the one I miss right now, and will always miss.
I have a rather strange view of friendship.
I treat you in the best way I can — the way I'd want you to treat me, as your friend.
But the moment I realize my presence in your life isn't really worth much, or that it could actually hurt you — if I had to choose between losing a leg and losing you —
My choice is quick: I'd rather lose you. Because having me in your life isn't necessary — that doesn't mean I don't carry you in my heart, or that I don't value you, quite the opposite. I just don't see the point, for you, of having me around.
I'm nothing but a burden.
...
Beautiful Moon, let's call you, Lune.
Lune.
A burden, I am one, and I'm not trying to deny it.
Terrible, that's what I am as a friend, and heartless I remain, because I feel nothing — no grief over what should be heartbreak.
Ouch! My heart. Did I just feel a flicker of regret?
Really?
— "Hahahahahahah... Lune, don't be so naive."
Selene. I think we're the same, in the end. Nothing but a bunch of fucking...
....
....
....
....
Still here?
So why don't you move on to something else, then — I'm done... for now...
...
See you soon again!