#I’ve been at this company for 2 years undeservingly

[herawell]

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[shared-diaries-online]

Entry 8: A Tale of Three Michaels (Part 2)

November 20, 2018

 Dear “Diary,”

 The year is winding down. Slowly but surely. I don’t have any holiday plans, before you ask. I seldom do. The holidays don’t mean much to me anymore. Too many funerals for that. Did you know they pull from the same pot of energy? That might not be the best metaphor, but I guess you can understand what I’m talking about. Either you have a lot of holidays or a lot of funerals. I’ve never met someone who can manage to do both. But good for you if you happen to be that one in a million. It would be nice to meet you, but that hasn’t happened yet.

 Anyway, we need to go on with our tale, don’t we? The second Michael. That’s anti-climactic, but according to social media, that’s the overall theme of his entire life. Not to be undeservingly mean, but he was the type of person to peak at age 18, made that way through his own choices. Maybe if he didn’t spend so much of our high school years bowing down to a woman who only got into teaching to relive her own glory days and prepared some sort of direction for himself, then he wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

 Yeah, I’m relieved this never worked out. Ironically, that same teacher he served/worshiped was the one who singled me out as an “undesirable,” and did a fair bit to undermine my context specific progress. I don’t think being with Michael would have changed that. If anything, it would have made it worse. She was the jealous type.

 Now, let me just point out that it could have been worse. It was worse for so many other people. She didn’t like “otherness,” but she wasn’t consistent about her response to otherness. I got lucky. I wasn’t left in rest stops or openly ridiculed. I was just, well, her last choice for pretty much everything. But I was still on the roster. Or in the bus.

 But despite all the issues she left me with. That teacher isn’t a part of this story.

 ***

Sycophant Michael and I knew each other in middle school. He moved from the Midwest just before seventh grade and ended up in my science class. And I think we had something else together. But I can’t remember. Which feels odd to admit. I always swore I would never forget my school schedules, but while they might have held on longer than most, they are still gone. Just as gone as anyone could expect, I guess.

 But I remember science class because we were seated at the same pod of tables. We were in a lab group together, you see, for a few weeks at least. And it was just easier on our teacher and the rest of us to keep the pods together at all times.

 I was so happy. I was already in love with him by then. I’m not sure how long. Once again, my memory of that time is full of holes. I do remember the rush of excitement that came when our names were announced together, but not much else.

 I do remember that I had a friend who had computer class with him. (It was supposed to be a class about technological literacy, but it ended up being mostly about typing.) Back then, she used to go my Lily (or something to that end). She doesn’t use that name anymore. You don’t need to know what name she uses now. I don’t need to know what name she uses now.

 Lily and I had an on-and-off again friendship, as it were. And that’s entirely my fault. I wasn’t a great friend or really a good person, to be honest.

 Lily was one of the odd kids in school. First, as shallow as it is, she wasn’t conventionally beautiful in the face and had terrible posture from a bent spine that required a very obvious brace. Second, she loved anime and wore the related gear proudly like a tail and cat ears. Maybe that wasn’t anime-related, but she always said it was.

 In the middle school food chain, I wasn’t much higher than she was, and I was a bit too willing to throw her under the bus to keep it that way. If this is a defense… I did find her annoying largely because she always asked for a sip of my water during gym class only to drink half of the bottle in one gulp. Even if I lied and told her I was sick. This went on for a full year without fail, despite my repeatedly telling her that she needed to start bringing her own.

 It’s not a great reason to dislike someone you call a friend; it’s a valid reason to stop calling that person friend. But that’s not what I did. I kept her around when it was convenient and threw her aside when it was, using this one thing as justification.

I was almost thirteen and almost a fatherless child. Looking back, it’s almost like I was a different person. I wasn’t. But perception and reality can be hard to distinguish.

 This was a time when Lily and I were somewhat close. I don’t know why. The ups and downs were impossible to track even at the time. She just happened to be there when I burst. I loved Michael so much I couldn’t help but talk about him. And she was there to listen, ever the better friend that I was.

 It was her idea to tell him. Not mine. I was aware that he—like so many other people—found it annoying when I talked. I had a tendency to repeat myself, and I distinctly remember several conversations where he called me on it.

 “Of course I know/remember. You won’t let me forget,” he would say.

 It hurt. But my emotions weren’t his responsibility. Not in this way. And not that I deserve any degree of courtesy as a result of what I was doing to Lily.

 I think I only kept her around because of her connection to him: that common class after lunch when they would both come earlier than anyone else. They’d be alone together, and she had suggested using this time to gather more information on him and the things he likes. She offered, yes, but I didn’t have to take. I didn’t have to do Lily the injustice of gritting my teeth and “suffering” in her company just to inch closer to him. Just for the sake of a love affair that would likely mean nothing.

 But I was willing to do it, and it wasn’t that I was blinded by love or anything like that. I just thought so little of Lily. And I never apologized for it.

 After a few weeks, Lily pushed me to let her tell him about my feelings during that small window when they were alone. I resisted at first, but I felt confident that it would work out, that I was meant for him. Largely because, we were the only two people of any color in our grade, and matching things go together, right? It’s a dumb thought, but I didn’t have any other mindset to consider.

 And so, I relented, but I don’t remember what I was expecting. I do remember what she told me happened.

 She walked up to him and his best friend who just happened to tag along and said, “Guess who has a crush on you?”

 He guessed it on the first try but was still dismayed with the answer.

 And really? He was right. I wasn’t worth it, not when you consider the kind of person I was being to Lily.

 If this damaged our relationship, I don’t remember. By then, Dad’s health took another turn, and that consumed all my thoughts. Beyond that, I just remember Lily and how I treated her. We’re friends on a gaming system, but that’s hardly a connection. I should do something. I need to do something, even a quick apology over text chat is better than nothing, but I can’t.

 It’s so hard to own up to your own failings. In any context. It stings, yes, but that’s a fitting punishment. In its absence, I guess I’ll have to endure so much more. It’s a trap I can pull myself out of. Or I should be able to pull myself out of it. But I can’t. I really can’t.

  Digitally yours,

Alex.

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