How does it feel to lose someone you know?
Terrible?
The worst?
Did you cry? Did you think about the times you spent together?
I think so.
How would you feel if you lost someone still alive?
I mean the the person is laughing and fully existing but you've lost the person.
Let me tell you how it feels.
Soul crushing.
That's how I feel staring at someone I used to call my friend.
She laughs and throws her hand over her new friend's shoulder. Irritation rose in my chest as she did.
She never did that with me.
I go through my memory bank of our time together and the pain worsens.
She was always so closed off with me. We were supposed to be friends. She was supposed to be my close friend - not my best friend because I never did that. I was never cut out for that level of commitment.
She throws her head back and laughs. "Stella…" I zone out as she speaks. My attention is somewhere else. It's on the walls of the classroom.
I look around the room and take note of the bright blue tables and chairs. As seniors, we had the honour to use such kinds of chairs.
"Nonsense honour." I spit under my breath. Rage rolls out of my tone, I blame it on my loss and the heat from the ceiling.
Between the pain in my heart and the heat above me, I am dying. It's heart-wrenching pain- one I don't know if I can recover from.
Sweat pours down my face and I make no effort to wipe it off.
"You can't avoid this conversation." My eyes finally rested on my friends. I snort and shake my head.
These people don't know how good I am at avoiding things. I am a master procrastinator for a reason.
I wipe my eyes and sniff for the hundredth time. This was day two of losing my friend and I wasn't sure of how I survived it.
My memory of the day before passed in a blur.
It was the same as today, with me crying my voice hoarse, talking to myself, digging myself deeper into the pain and sweating buckets.
I sigh.
"You need to apologize to her, Rose." My gaze rests on my friend, I fight off the urge to glare at her.
That's not Christlike. I tell myself.
"Why?" The word comes out in a dark and disgusted tone. It was exactly how I felt.
"It's because you're at fault."
My eyebrows scrunch. "How-?"
"Stop being proud and apologize. Say sorry to her."
A mixture of rage and pain wage war within me. Tears gather in my eyes as I see the truth.
They're not on my side. They're on hers. They support her.
I grit my teeth and tap the table.
"I did nothing wrong," I say. The looks on their faces echo the same answer, 'Yes you did.'
Tears threaten to leak from my eyes but I fight it off.
I won't cry in front of them. I can't.
I shrug and roll my eyes like my heart isn't breaking and say, "Okay."
"Does it mean you'll talk to her?"
I shrug and repeat the words. "Okay."
"What does it mean?" Victoria asks. Her face is scrunched up and if I wasn't heartbroken over losing my friend, I might have actually laughed.
"It means what it means." I shrug.
"It's time for us to go," Chidera announces. They stand up and stare at me for a split second. I stare right back and shrug. "Okay."
One of them sighs and hisses under her breath but it doesn't move me.
I need them to leave so I'll continue my crying in peace.
"Bye." I nod.
I don't turn or look up to watch them leave. I place my head on my table and watch as their feet leave the classroom.
I stare at their sandals. An old insecurity flares up.
I snort. It's so old I forgot it was there.
They were all wearing the same model of sandals. The same type as the majority of the girls in the school.
"I never got to wear this sandal." I sniff and watch the last leg leave. It looked like a final goodbye. It felt like a final goodbye.
I took a deep breath and looked around the room, everything looked fine but I still didn't feel okay.
I wrap my hands around myself as the feeling of loneliness creeps on me. If it was hours before, I'd fight it, but this time I welcomed it because I knew in my heart that it'd be the only constant with me.
"Were we even friends if she felt I was choking her?" I shrug.
I'll never know.
Here's my entry to the inkwell Creative nonfiction week #50