$$$$$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$$$$ hogz of entropy #181 $$$$$P $$$$ $$$$ moo, oink, up your butt. $$$$P $$$$ x$$$$ $$$P $$$$ xP$$$$ d$$$$$$$$$$$. $$$. $$$$xP $$$$ $$$$$$' >$$$$ $$$$$$$$$. $$$$P $$$$ 4$$$$$. .$$$$' $$$$'`4$$$b. $$$$ $$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$P' $$$$b 4$$$$b. $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$< %% $$$$$b 4$$$$$x $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$ %% >> "There Was A Girl" << by -> Neko ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was an overcast gray day when it all ended. As cliche as it sounds, it's true. (By the way, everything is a cliche, and good luck finding some emotion, some phrase that isn't based on something else -- but that's another column). I was at the mall, of all places. The last time I was at the mall was six months before this. That time I had gone for one reason: to see her. Girls. One girl. It always boils down to one, doesn't it? You meet someone, you think you hit it off, things don't work out how you expect, but you think you're friends, right? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I wish our world was open enough to just be able to walk up to someone and say, "Hi, let's _do_ something," and if they don't want to, they'd be cool enough to tell you and things could still work out and everyone would be happy. I wish I was open enough to do that. Anyway, there was a girl. Well, she's not dead, so I suppose there IS a girl. In any case, we're talking about a girl. I've known her for a long time, but it wasn't until about two years ago that I got to talking to her. I thought we connected - I talked to her about anything and everything and the simple fact that she existed with an open ear helped me out a lot. Something I've recently come to realize, though, is how little I know about her. For all the effort I put into things, there was none coming back. I know her name, her birthday, and where she goes to school. Maybe a little bit more. I wonder why she never felt comfortable opening up to me. Maybe I was just too incessant. I don't know. Maybe I didn't handle my side correctly. Whatever. It doesn't matter. That summer, I wanted more than anything to simply get together and do things. She worked, and was hard to get a hold of during the day -- I can understand that. I left messages, emails, even resorted to sending letters, but to no avail. I can't recall one time when she's actually returned a call of mine, much less initiated one. She says she's bad about email, but she rarely returned them and never initiated them. That was all okay. I was riding high on hope -- she had said things that maybe I misinterpreted, I don't know, but I thought there was a higher connection than saying hi at school. Then I left for a year. When I left, I was highly disillusioned with everyone I called 'friend'. I viewed my year abroad not only as a test for me, but as a test for my _friends_. Who would prove to be a _true friend_? I expected a letter from her. I waited. Waited. Waited. Finally I gave up and relegated myself to looking longingly at her picture every once in a while. Showing her picture to my friends and family in Russia I was often asked if she was my girlfriend. "No," I would answer, always with hope inside that someday... Once I got email access in Russia I figured it would be easier to communicate. I'd email her, and my other friends, about once a week or so. I rarely got messages back. When I did they usually ended with her talking about how much of a hurry she is in and how she has to go. But it was okay. It made me happy just to get mail from her. I came home in June. I've seen her three times since then. She came to my homecoming party, I drove out to the mall once just to say 'hi' to her (and received a promise that she would call -- I don't know how late I stayed up that night waiting..always waiting), and I went to her graduation / going-away party (which, I must give credit, I did receive an invitation for). She's at college now. Having a good time, I would presume, as I haven't heard anything to the contrary. I rarely hear from her, and when I do it's only because I've written. I wrote her and told her about my feelings and basically explained exactly what I've written above, with the underlining question, "why?" I never got a good explanation from her, but then again, she never was one for writing. At least not for writing me. Cut to Thanksgiving. I call her and she's around. We talk for awhile. She says she's only home for a couple days and can't meet with me but we'll definitely do something over Christmas vacation. A little bit later: I get an email saying when she'll be home and that she'll call me that night. The night she was home was December 13th. It's been nearly a month -- no call. So, like I started off the column, I went to the mall today. This time I went to exchange something, but since she works at the mall I thought maybe I'd walk by and see if she was there. She was. I kept walking. My eyes began to water. I left, got in my car and drove away, listening to the melodically depressing sounds of Hum. This time is the end for real. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- * (c) HoE publications. HoE #181 -- written by Neko -- 1/13/98 *