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It happened again. Probably the worst she has ever experienced in her life. Everything was fine one moment, and then it hits her. Like a Mack Truck. No prelude to this. No warning. No argument to clue her in on the uncontrollable feeling that would soon take her over.
At this point she rides them out. It is easier that way, eventually she will calm down. But this last time. No. It was different. More frightening than ever before. It felt as if her heart was going to break from her chest. It began with the end of a new friendship. An abrupt and sudden end. She believed she found a soulmate in a friend. She foolishly opened her heart to this perfect stranger.
Almost three months of being around this person, who she exposed her soul to. And believed to be a quick, close, friend. A few wrong words, and then silence follows. A wrong comment, meant as a joke, taken too far. She's ghosted. She doesn't know what she could've possibly done. She believed everything to be fine. Now the script has been flipped, it feels like she is in high school, or perhaps even middle school. She is unfriended, and her Snapchat removed. She attempts contact, which is blatantly ignored. Until finally, oh finally, she gets a response.
14 texts blow up her phone. The longer she stares at it, the more dizzy she feels. She had deluded herself into believing this was a misunderstanding and that it could be fixed, but she was horribly wrong. The texts explain how she messed up, how the friend doesn't want her to be friends anymore, and that they want their books back. She can't see. She drops her phone. She stands from the couch and stumbles away... Her fingers run through her hair, gripping at the root, tight enough to cause pain.
She can't feel it though. She knows she is pulling on her hair. She appears to be vibrating. Heat flushes her face and makes her head swim. She can hear herself saying, "I don't understand. I don't understand. What is happening? What is happening?" She continues repeating this. Not truly expecting an answer. Her husband is there, he's hovering around her with concern. She keeps saying the same thing over and over until. Her legs are wobbling, and she hits the ground. She doesn't feel it. She can see she is on the floor of her apartment. Her head is propped on her arm while hot tears run down her face.
She is a broken record, "I don't understand. I don't understand." Her husband is terrified, he's holding her close. Begging her to breathe. She can hear him but she doesn't know how to respond. She wants to tear her heart from her chest because it hurts too much. She begs her husband to explain. He takes her phone, and begins to read. It takes a good minute, but it feels like an eternity. She begs him to explain. Her body is numb. He explains the texts. But it makes no sense. A simple comment, a bad joke, brought this on? Why wasn't there a conversation? Why was she not given the ability to apologize? She was just shunned, dropped, like she is worthless. And perhaps she is, she feels like it. It is late, almost 11 PM on a Thursday.
She paces around the room, finally in control of her legs again. She finds the books her ex-friend requested. The plot twist is this friend lives directly above her. She takes the two books upstairs. Her ex-friend opens the door. The friend's expression is blank. She had never seen her look like this. She begins to tremble once more as she hands over the books. The ex-friend starts to close the door, but she begs for a chance to talk. Reluctantly, the ex-friend keeps the door open, blinking at her slowly, like an owl. She attempts to speak but her voice quivers. She is fighting with every cell in her body to not cry. She doesn't want to cry anymore. But she knows her eyes are bloodshot and her face is puffy.
She pleads for a second chance, to explain, to fix this. But her ex-friend explains why this cannot happen. That she is too immature, that her personal life is too emotional, that SHE is too emotional. That the ex-friend doesn't want her around. Her husband has come up. He is standing behind her, silent support. Finally, her friend offers to talk the following day, after work. She agrees. And her body begins to tremble once more.
The tears she had been fighting this entire time finally break, and stream down her cheeks. Her friend approaches her and gives her a hug. She had never had a hug that felt so cold and devoid of emotion. A sympathy hug, a bone thrown. She feels pathetic afterwards, full of shame. She is the one to break the hug. "I have to go." This is the last time she would see this person. She knew, in her heart, the ex-friend just provided the idea of further conversation to get her to leave.
It is a week later, and she is still crying over how everything ended. Out of her hands, completely helpless. She continues to go over and over the events in her head. She cannot logically agree with how everything was handled, she could think of multiple other ways this could've been avoided. Yet she was drop kicked, like she meant nothing. And now, in the aftermath, she is living with this dark cloud, literally above her head. She doesn't even know if she can trust ever again. The blatantly betrayal... may be too much this time.