The message icon on the lower half of the computer screen was flashing again. With a heavy heart and weighed down emotions, I flick up the message icon, and row after row of bitter words, accusations and nastiness show up on the screen.
My eyes skim over the words, and I’m sure I won’t let them effect me; I need to feel and be strong. But I feel they already have, I begin to slump over the keyboard. I type back though addressing the accusations, and nasty comments, with reasons why they are wrong. I begin spilling out my feelings for the situation through the keys on the computer. I am not sure why I had to defend myself when 1. I was in the right and had a good reason to be and 2. She had overreacted.
Mum called me away and I was grateful for the chance to cool off. I had been a friend with a girl named Samantha since Day School. It was year twelve, in high school, and she had already a string of mixed matched ex boyfriends who had broken her heart. When she decided not to hook up with any more high school and college guys and start Internet dating, I had a kind word to her about being careful, that was when my troubles began.
I later found myself back at the computer reading more of her messages later that evening with a nasty twist to what I had told her.
I hadn’t asked for your opinion and it is none of your business
She had typed. She was right she didn’t ask, but I told her in good faith, not to split her world up or attack the guy she thought she loved.
I was finding it hard not to respond to her. Samantha my friend of over nineteen years was attacking me brutally, my self esteem was sinking, my heart was low, and she only addressed the issue here on the MSN, whenever she saw me in person she would avoid me, brush me off, or pretend she was busy.
“Your friend” Mum told me resting a hand on my shoulder “is being a bully, I am sure you told her your concern in good faith and she has taken it to extreme levels”
I had nodded at Mum, and told her that I had.
“You don’t need to write back to her,” Mum had told me “If you know the truth that’s what matters”
It was hard to follow Mum’s advice, as I wanted to fix what Samantha and I had once had. I wanted her to understand why I had warned her, and why she was overreacting.
One evening after ballet practise I saw I had an email from her. I read the email and I at first felt quite hopeful and then as I read more I felt quite the opposite, the email had simply told me in a direct way, she forgave me, I was in the wrong and I’d have to re earn her trust if we were to keep being friends.
I realised Samantha had missed the mark greatly and did not see it in fact it was not me who had overreacted but her when I tried to help her. Samantha and her so, called Internet boyfriend were accusing me of breaking them up, and not understanding.
I had to realise that everything we worked for in those nineteen years had been torn apart by her over reaction and by a guy she didn’t even know if or not was real. I had to stop responding back, cause every message reminded me of how cruel she was, every word sliced my emotions, and I was bitter and hurt. I had to let Samantha go, to hold onto some of my dignity and regain self esteem. I did feel for her though, she didn’t realise perhaps what she was chucking away. I blocked her from MSN, and didn’t take any more nasty things her boyfriend wrote to me. I cut myself out of it and looking back now I am glad I didn’t feed the situation and feed their fake unreal relationship with my emotions to keep it ticking over.
I don’t claim to be better then Jodie, or sure I will not someday be tempted to try Internet dating, I am hopeful though any advice a well meaning friend or parent gives me I will try my best to hear why, and understand there concern for my welfare, and not attack them turn the situation around or slap them in the face with hurtful downgrading words.
Samantha had made an effort though since we stopped talking and she stopped accusing to personally thank me with a grudge that her and her Internet boyfriend have split up, and she in every way blames me. I in fact do not blame myself; I do not feel bad for her or ashamed for her. I do not want to tell her I told you so, but I am glad for one thing, they didn’t meet in real life, and she didn’t get more hurt then she is now.
Thank you for being such a lousy friend
She had scribbled over my locker at school, and that sentence may even reflect on what sort of a friend she in fact was to me.