Cracking Zeenath

To Ericka.

To Ericka.

      I'm starting to feel the difference between "sympathy" and "empathy." Sympathy is what I felt for you when you told me your story. Empathy is what I'm feeling by living a part of it. Although it doesn't seem right to say I lived a part of your life. Your life was...is so different from mine, and I didn't go through everything you went through. No, not all of it. I didn't live through all of it. Just the part where you were alone and didn't want to form any new relationships because you were afraid they wouldn't last. And it kills me to know that I invited you into another group of friends, and we didn't last either. I thought we were made of steel: unconquerable, unbreakable...everlasting. 

I guess this is what happens when you take things for granted. They get taken away. 

     I remember when I first met you in high school. You were sitting in the cafeteria, all alone and far away from everyone else. I guess that's why I noticed you. You sat apart from everyone else. I remember seeing you and deciding I wanted to talk to you. Forget what everyone else said. Not that I knew what everyone else was saying. You know how far I was from all the social circles: rumors didn't reach me until everything had already blown over and everyone else forgot. I didn't care much for rumors. Still don't. 

     That's why I didn't look at you and peg you as that girl. The one that had been caught on video doing something with one of the jocks in an empty classroom. You were torn apart, abandoned, and scarlet-lettered. You were the one that caught all the hate as everyone purposely avoided you, and you got kicked off the cheer leading team within days and lost your friends, and everyone you loved turned their backs on you, and called you names, and said horrible things about you to everyone they met. Even people who didn't even know you tried to taunt you and get up in your face about that incident. The whole time, he used you. He used you to gain popularity, and everyone loved him and the way he taunted you, and talked about you, made jokes about you. He didn't get kicked off the football team. Hell, he became more popular.

     That's not who you were to me. That's not who you are to me even now. Even after we don't even talk anymore, and you probably have carried on with your life and forgotten about me. Back then, you were just that girl I wanted to talk to. You looked alone. You were alone. I remember walking up to your table and saying hi, nervous that you wouldn't want to talk to me. You just looked up at me with this guarded expression, your jaw clenched as you waited for me to taunt you. I remember feeling intimidated by your look, but I didn't have anyone to talk to and you looked lonely that day. 

"What's your name?" 

You raised an eyebrow at me. "Like you don't know," you said. 

I got confused. "No, I don't. Should I know?" 

"Of course. I'm the one they're all talking about." 

I looked at you. "I still don't know who you are, but I don't care about 'them.' People care too much what others think. Let them think what they want; they don't understand anything anyway." 

You looked at me and turned back to your food. I couldn't tell whether you planned on ignoring me or you were just thinking as you stared at your plate hard, moving around food with your fork without eating. 

After a long moment of silence: "Ericka." 

I let out a small breath and smiled, nodding. "Zeenath. Nice to meet you." 

That's all we said that day. 

      That table is where we used to meet for the rest of that year. I kept coming back and you eventually opened up to me. We never talked about the rumors. They didn't matter. We talked about our days, and the dumb things we did. We talked about everything that mattered and everything that didn't. Eventually, I dragged you down to meet my friends because you were a part of them now. You were a part of us. 

     Now I know how you must've felt not having any friends. Being too scared thinking about how they'd all leave eventually, or you'd push them away, that you maybe didn't even want to. 

     I know I don't. The way we ended, the way we threw ourselves over a cliff, leaving no way to bring us back to life, tore apart my heart and I don't want to put it back together again. Crying over the broken pieces drained me. There are so many pieces, I don't even remember what was broken anymore or how to put it back together again. Our friendship, our lives, my heart...I don't want to think about making friends again. You all were the only friends I ever had. I don't even know how to make friends anymore. 

~Zeenath