I can still remember that incident like it was yesterday. I can remember my tears and the pain I felt, just like it was last night. I remember every word she said. Just like it was engraved somewhere in front of me and I see it everyday. And it kills me when I realise that I'll have to live with this, probably for a while.
She was my first friend in Holy Child Convent. She was that first news I gave my mom when I returned home from my first day at Holy Child. "Ma! I made a new friend!" She was the first helping hand I received. She was the first friend to have savoured my tiffin. She was the friend I needed, she was a friend indeed.
However, she was also the first friend I had a fight with. She was the friend whom I let go. She is that first friend I'd never attempt to forget. She was the first friend I made a mistake to not understand well. She was the friend I saw driving away because I didn't stop her. She was the friend I let down, that first friend who might have lost faith in me.
She was the friend I hated and loved at the same time. She was that friend I trusted and didn't too at the same time. She was the friend to whom I'd opened up my secrets to for the first time.
I wish I had made things right when there was time for me to do so. I wish this all hadn't happened because everytime I look at the moment, the happy moments, I'd be visited by a strong urge of anger, followed by immediate sadness. She considered herself as the light everyone needs in times of despair but would never keep it. And I knew about it. Yet, there was nothing that I did, nothing that I thought I could have done. This was not what I intended ever. In my excitement of entering a new school, creating new friends, meeting new classmates, I forgot about that one friend who was special to me but felt ignored by me. I made a mistake which resulted in distorting my definition of having a happy childhood memory.
I wish. I wish a lot of things. I get angry over a lot of things and I wish I could make it right again. I wish I'd wished it sooner because now there is no turning back, because now, I have new promises to keep and fulfill.
I am growing up, moving along with maturity and now I understand that her anger was justified. Not being asked to join for pizza was a way but it was all pent up frustration. Now when I think about it in a view from where I was wrong, I see why she was right. Because I always looked at it from the point of view where I was right and probably showed that to my friends too. They saw what I wanted them to see, not what was right. Yes, I do blame some things on other people for this situation but ultimately, it was me, I was at the core, at the root. I didn't keep my promise, I walked out on her, I walked out on her faith in me, the trust that had built up.
When we see a fight, a dispute, everybody is moved by the one crying in sadness, in "pain". We sympathise with that person who is weak. But we seldom look at the one crying and pretty much blame on that person, not knowing that the person might be going through the same. That the person who isn't crying on the outside, must have broken down already on the inside. Crying is easy. You just need to feel sad about something. But standing there, with no one on our side, listening to people passing rude comments on you, that stuff is hard. I was the one crying, gathering sympathy, snapping at anyone who'd disagree with me. And she was the one who stood strong, moving on, turning away and being the light she always was, the light everyone needed.
She was my first friend in Holy Child Convent. She was that first news I gave my mom when I returned home from my first day at Holy Child. "Ma! I made a new friend!" She was the first helping hand I received. She was the first friend to have savoured my tiffin. She was the friend I needed, she was a friend indeed.
However, she was also the first friend I had a fight with. She was the friend whom I let go. She is that first friend I'd never attempt to forget. She was the first friend I made a mistake to not understand well. She was the friend I saw driving away because I didn't stop her. She was the friend I let down, that first friend who might have lost faith in me.
She was the friend I hated and loved at the same time. She was that friend I trusted and didn't too at the same time. She was the friend to whom I'd opened up my secrets to for the first time.
I wish I had made things right when there was time for me to do so. I wish this all hadn't happened because everytime I look at the moment, the happy moments, I'd be visited by a strong urge of anger, followed by immediate sadness. She considered herself as the light everyone needs in times of despair but would never keep it. And I knew about it. Yet, there was nothing that I did, nothing that I thought I could have done. This was not what I intended ever. In my excitement of entering a new school, creating new friends, meeting new classmates, I forgot about that one friend who was special to me but felt ignored by me. I made a mistake which resulted in distorting my definition of having a happy childhood memory.
I wish. I wish a lot of things. I get angry over a lot of things and I wish I could make it right again. I wish I'd wished it sooner because now there is no turning back, because now, I have new promises to keep and fulfill.
I am growing up, moving along with maturity and now I understand that her anger was justified. Not being asked to join for pizza was a way but it was all pent up frustration. Now when I think about it in a view from where I was wrong, I see why she was right. Because I always looked at it from the point of view where I was right and probably showed that to my friends too. They saw what I wanted them to see, not what was right. Yes, I do blame some things on other people for this situation but ultimately, it was me, I was at the core, at the root. I didn't keep my promise, I walked out on her, I walked out on her faith in me, the trust that had built up.
When we see a fight, a dispute, everybody is moved by the one crying in sadness, in "pain". We sympathise with that person who is weak. But we seldom look at the one crying and pretty much blame on that person, not knowing that the person might be going through the same. That the person who isn't crying on the outside, must have broken down already on the inside. Crying is easy. You just need to feel sad about something. But standing there, with no one on our side, listening to people passing rude comments on you, that stuff is hard. I was the one crying, gathering sympathy, snapping at anyone who'd disagree with me. And she was the one who stood strong, moving on, turning away and being the light she always was, the light everyone needed.
