Let the Bridge Burn

When I was in high school, I had a pretty close-knit group of friends. Most of us had known each other since seventh grade or longer. Around grade ten though, things started to get messy. People started dating, which is typical and okay by all means, but sometimes it gets a little complex when you're looking to date inside your close circle of friends.

I had a crush on my friend Derek, which eventually faded with time and turned to what I would call more of a sibling sort of relationship. We bickered, as one of my teachers once said "like an old married couple," which by the way was mortifying. I guess during this time when I was no longer interested he developed feelings for me. A lot of our relationship based on writing and the escapism is allowed us. He was coming from a lousy childhood and a rocky home life, and I had my fair share of anxieties.

I think we were the first people to get how each other's minds really worked. I knew what made him tick, and he understood me too, and that was an insight I loved. It also allowed us to take things to far very quickly. We were competitive, and most of the time the competition was to see who could hurt or anger the other the most. By eleventh grade, all of our conversations were arguments, and it slowly grew to the point that my family started to hate him because a single text could make me feel like I was losing my mind.

There was a lot of misdirected anger coming from both of us. He was angry at his father who had abandoned his family a long time before we ever met and his mother who had neglected to care for him and never truly accepted his life choices as we grew into adulthood.

I was angry with myself. For a really long time, I defined myself by the idea that there was something just broken inside of me. Which, looking back does sound like a lot of teenage anxiety, but it also affected me on a lot of levels. I was closed off and had a lot of protective barriers that kept me safe but made me feel very alone. As desperate as I was to have friends, to have people to connect to, I was also terrified of letting them in.

Derek got in behind my wall though, and he let me in behind his. And it was toxic. We went to the movies at the end of tenth grade. We went on a date that I honestly had no idea was a date. I thought we were going to see a movie but at the end of it he asked me out and I panicked. His mom, who I'm reasonably sure never liked any of us, was sitting in the car parked outside honking the horn at him and I did something really shitty. I said yes. I said yes just to make it all go away, which it did for a full day until he started texting me.

I got on the bus after he left and started making my way home. I honestly couldn't believe what I had said. I didn't like him that way anymore. I hadn't romantically liked him in nearly a year. I was so anxious that I only made it halfway home before I threw up (thankfully not on the bus, I got off before that) and I'm not one of those people with a weak stomach. When I did get home, I turned off Facebook chat to make it look like I was offline and immediately started texting my friends who all told me that if I was this anxious about the whole idea, then it probably wasn't a going to go well.

Technically, we dated for all of three days, most of which we didn't see each other because it took place over a weekend and then I had morning co-op, which let me avoid Derek nearly altogether.

I did something else that was shitty. I broke up with Derek over messenger. I honestly felt horrible about this. It wasn't a situation that I wanted either of us to be in, and it was my fault for letting it get this way. I can't say I was hurting more than he was. All he ever told me about this day was that he was really happy and then he wasn't. But, I cried. I cried on my bathroom floor like a baby because despite everything I knew I was a lousy friend who had just hurt someone I did care for. My brother found me that way. Lying on the ground to worked up to speak and too dizzy to stand. I'm fortunate; my brother is a nice guy because he picked me up off the floor and let me sob until his shoulder soaked with tears.

For a while it was tense. Our group split down the middle, but it wasn't so bad because Derek and I only saw each other for one class. Eventually, the dust seemed to have settled, and on the surface it had, but the rest of high school was a battlefield because I refused to give up my friends.

Derek and I were able to be friends again after some time, but it was never the same. Our relationship had gone rancid and yet there was a level of connection that neither of us could ignore because we just got each other. We were a toxic nightmare looking for the next thing we could contaminate, but sometimes it was really great.

He didn't judge me for my slight addiction to Pepsi, for my walls, or anything that was usually being judged by my family. It was a relief. It was nice, but he did things that were worse. He confirmed for me that I was broken. He told me I was unfeeling, a sociopath, and I did my best to deliver because he was my friend and why shouldn't I believe him? I heard it every day. My other friends laughed about it. A jab meant to hurt me had turned into a joke that I let myself believe.

When we graduated, I never got a picture with him. He left before I could even say goodbye and that should have been a sign. Derek went off to University in another city, and I stayed here as I had decided to take a gap year an expand my sense of self or something like that.

We Skyped nearly every week, which was quite a reduction from chatting almost every day for hours over text or messenger. Eventually, things started to change. He made new friends in University, and I was genuinely happy for him, but then he started boasting about them, and it wasn't long before I just couldn't stand talking to him.

We didn't communicate at all for four months or so before he came back for Christmas break, where we agreed to meet up. I waited for him, and he never showed. I went home, and he called me saying he was sorry for not showing up. I was angry, but I let it go.

Before he went back to school, he skyped me and did what I can only describe as "breaking up" with me. It was eerily similar to what you might expect a boyfriend/girlfriend to say to a significant other while ending a relationship. I was upset, but honestly, I wasn't heartbroken the way I thought I would be which I think was more upsetting than anything else.

Derek did all the talking during the so-called break-up. He was always good at talking, so I let him. When the call ended, I texted my best friend and even though I was upset, I couldn't help but think that it was a good thing. Sometimes bridges just need to be burned.

The first few months were hard. Derek said we weren't friends anymore, but we were still friends on Facebook. It was difficult not just to send him a message because we used to talk all the time. It was around then I decided my Facebook page would really be for friends. So, I unfriended him and a lot of others. Still, whenever I saw my friends from high school (serval of which I still do), he was a topic that could not be ignored. I never expected them not be friends with him anymore just because we no longer were. It was sort of like I was being haunted, but I dealt with it. After about a year and a bit eventually my friends lost contact with him too. But, before that, he sent me an email saying he wanted to be friends again.

As much as I wanted to, and as much as I didn't want to, I'm glad I said no. Maybe it was mean or spiteful, but I told him the truth. I knew he was coming home for summer break and that he would be leaving again. I knew that this would be a painful cycle unless one of us did something to stop it. And, I knew I was happy, happier than I had been in a really long time. So, I let the bridge burn and smoke.

G.