A Bunch Of Incomplete (and complete) Stories Of Mine

Writing 7: Sorry.

It was the summer of my freshmen year of high school. I hadn't made too many friends over the year, but luckily I didn't need many because I'm an anti-social potato. But regardless, I had still managed to make a few really good friends, with my best friend being Kayla. Kayla and I were the best of friends- we were practically inseparable. Even when we were apart, we'd text one another on Facebook all the time. Over time, I eventually developed romantic feelings for her- and told her over text, like an idiot. After this we grew a little closer, and for the first time in a long time: I was happy. I continuously remained happy until... the very middle of that summer.

I was playing my favorite video game Mass Effect 2 on my computer, when I heard the all-too familiar sound of a Facebook message notification through my headphones. My smile spread across my face as I rushed to minimize my game and clicked on the notification, a shortcut to pulling up my Facebook messages.

It had to be Kayla. Who else would message me on Facebook? As the page finally opened, I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back, congratulating myself for being correct. It was in fact Kayla, however, this text was... different. Unlike anything I had seen from her before..

"Ugh! I can't believe they did this!"

This was odd from Kayla, usually she was a very happy-go-lucky type of person, so this was out of character for her. I figured that something had happened and perhaps she needed to talk about it.

"Calm down buddy, what happened?"

It was at this moment I realized that "calm down" was an incredibly poor choice of words. The next few minutes were easily some of the longest in my entire life.

"Why don't you just shut up, Alan?"

Okay, ouch. That was a bit harsh for joking around like she usually does... but maybe-

My train of thought was cut off by another text, "Seriously, just shut up. You're always butting into other people's stuff."

I was completely lost at this point. "Kayla, I'm sorry I was just trying to help."

"How about you help by not texting me?"

I don't understand, I thought to myself as my hands began to tremble, I... I just want to help my best friend.

"Kayla, please... what's wrong?"

For a few moments, there was absolute silence. No texts from either side. I was just about to go back to playing 2 Mass Effect when-

Biiiiiiiing!

The sound of her message grabbed my attention. I smiled, thinking I had finally gotten her to tell me what was going on, only for her to be the needle to my metaphorical bubble.

"What's wrong with me? No Alan, what's wrong with you? All you do is play video games, watch cartoons, read comic books, and procrastinate on everything. You literally don't do anything relevant. I'm over here busting my tail with rollerskating, all honors classes, girl problems, and boys like you who pretend to be my friend because they like me. You're not important. You don't matter. When you die one day, nobody will remember you. But at least I accept it, but you? Grow up and accept it."

I sat there in my computer chair, taken aback by the text. I practically screamed in my head: Kayla, that isn't true! I'm your friend because I want to be your friend. Not because I like you! But I couldn't bring myself to type that. I just couldn't. I couldn't do anything except one thing, the only two things I knew I was good at: apologize and run away.

"Kayla... I'm sorry. I'll just let you be for a while. If you decide that you wanna talk, I'll be here."

I didn't receive a response for nearly two weeks. Two mentally agonizing weeks that consisted of me doing absolutely nothing except, you guessed it: video games and procrastinating, the only things Kayla said I was ever good at. I wasn't happy anymore, after all, she was right: I just existed.

Even her response then was just a single-word text...

"Hey."

To this day, I never received an apology. Maybe I don't deserve an apology. Hell, maybe I deserved her little rant about me. I don't know anymore. But what I want to know is whether or not she said that out of anger or out of truth. I guess I'll never know, because anytime I dare ask she always changes the subject. But that's okay, because now at the end of the day, I'm proud of who I'm growing up to be. I'm actually happy. Happier now than I ever was when she had me believing she was the only person who'd ever like me. Because now, I've met people who actually like me for who I am, and even somebody who loves me for who I am.