That Day

“That day, you made me feel smaller than I ever felt in my entire life!”

“And you’re bringing that up … 20 years later?! This is crazy, I am not going to stand here and …”

“No, you are going to hear me. After all this time, you are going to hear me!”

“Fine, go ahead. Throw all your issues on me. I’m the beginning of all your issues, of course. Ok, what crime did I commit that fucked you up oh so much?”

“The day I’m talking about is the day we were at recess and you told everyone that I was contagious because my mom had died. You told them all that their mom would die and when I needed friends the most, you made people literally run from me. I was all alone, my mom had just died and when I finally able to go back to school, I was an outcast.”

“Yes, I probably said that but no one had to listen. It was just a joke, it wasn’t supposed to be that serious. Plus, who were you looking for help from when we were just kids? You needed your father, not us.”

“I didn’t need you! I needed my best friend that locked me out of the classroom because she believed what you said and turned her back on me. That was a time when friends are needed, they are literally dire. I had no one my age that understood what I was going through or who would even try to hear me out. I was just surrounded by adults that wanted to fix me or tell me everything would be ok! I needed friends!”

“You think she was your friend? A friend would have stood up for you! And do you think you were the only one going through shit back then?! Do you know what it was like watching you prance around the classroom talking about your perfect life and telling us all how happy you were? Showing off your Christmas gifts and forcing your vacation stories down our throats? Some of us already had broken homes, we didn’t need to lose someone to know that life fucking sucks. Do you know why I made things up? To get the attention that I wanted … needed, as a kid. My mom ignored me and my dad’s attention hurt. Being able to come to school and have someone, anyone look at me like I was important, like my opinion mattered, like I mattered – that’s what I strived for. You weren’t a target, you were a chance. A chance for me to have others look at me like I was a god, not some sad, beaten charity case.”

“You can’t use people to heal!”

“You can’t use childhood trauma as a crutch to explain away why you’re unhappy as an adult!”

“I can’t believe you just said that to me. That is literally the epitome of what childhood trauma does. If it is left unhealed, it causes you to continue suffering as an adult. I worry each time someone tries to be friends because I think about what you did that day and I am scared they’ll turn their backs on me at any time just because of a whisper!”

“So, find your so-called friend that turned her back on you and make her repent. I can’t heal you, I’m sorry but I can’t. If you need an apology, I am sorry I said what I said. Do you feel better?”

“It doesn’t happen that fast…”

“It won’t happen at all, because I am not who hurt you. You don’t care about me enough for my words to cause you pain, you wanted her to hear those words and protect you but she didn’t. You wanted someone to protect you from the pain back then, I get that … trust me.”

“You think we’re the same but we aren’t, I never hurt you.”

“Not on purpose, but seeing how perfect your life was, hurt me. Knowing that a girl like you would never notice me unless I spread a rumor like that, hurt me. Watching your dad show up each day, watching you run into his arms before you drove off in that fancy car… that hurt me.”

“I … I couldn’t help that my family had money or that my dad loved me. I was only 12.”

“So was I.”