Author: L. Sherman PM
Myths of reality. Five in all. Because there are practical applications. First up is: Familiarity, the first myth of reality: What you know the best, you observe the least.Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 1,115 - Reviews: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 09-17-07 - id: 2416106
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
"Familiarity, the first myth of reality: What you know the best, you observe the least."
Best friends. Best friends forever. That's what you promised each other. You knew everything about her — favorite color, favorite food, biggest crush. You knew everything. You shared everything, too. From clothes, to friends, to everything in between. Hell, sometimes it felt like you shared minds. Even families on some days. You were girlfriends. Always together, always there for each other. There was nothing — not petty arguments, not possessive boyfriends — that separated you.
So somehow, the tombstone you find yourself staring blankly at just doesn't seem to fit into your cozy little twosome.
Guess there were some things you really didn't know, huh?
Well, don't feel bad. It's easy to overlook the signs; easy to brush off the fated moment she decided to end her life as her just 'having a bad day.'
I mean, who really knew that the day her boyfriend — God, what was his name? — broke up with her would be the day she decided she wasn't worth looking at anymore? You obviously didn't. Sure, you sat there, hugged her. You did all the things expected of you under the unspoken Girlfriend pact. Probably more, considering you two were so close, right? Remember? She was crying because he had dumped her after those wonderful eight months. The two of you sat up all night rehashing old times. You cried together, laughed together. You must have gone through at least a box or two of Kleenex. But hey, by the end of the night she was smiling again, wasn't she? She was back to being her old self again. Right?
Or, did she forget to mention just why, exactly, her boyfriend broke up with her in the first place when everything before that fated day seemed to be going just peachy? You remember that, don't you? Asking over and over why he said it was over. But she never answered, did she? Of all the questions you asked, she dodged that one like a bunny on crystal meth didn't she? Why?
Oh… you mean you didn't know she was pregnant?
Maybe she just forgot to mention it in all the hubbub of daily life. I mean, in the life of two high school seniors, how hard is it to have a rough day and just forget to tell your best friend that, "Oh God, I'm pregnant… and something like 13 weeks along."? I mean, it's easy to forget with all the drama and worry over that Trig test you've got next period, right? So… you should cut her some slack, I'm sure.
But, if you think about it, and I mean really think about it, after her boyfriend dumped her, after that night of crying, she never really was the same, was she? Of course she was on the rebound, but she never did seem to bounce back, did she?
Well, there was that one day you noticed the change, right? She came over with a present for you. A late birthday, early Christmas gift, she called it. You still have that CD somewhere, don't you? What was it again? Wasn't it the new Westlife single that you'd wanted from her for eons? Yeah, you remember now, don't you? You begged and begged for her to give it to you. But she loved it as much as you did and wouldn't part with it. So why on earth would she suddenly give it up to you? Bet you thought it was as thanks for being such a good friend to her after such a hard time in her life, right?
Except, you know, giving away valued possessions is clearly a sign that something's wrong. And not something minor, either. So why didn't you ask? Why didn't you take the time to see if everything was going okay? Oh, wait — you did, didn't you? And she said it was fine. Perfectly fine. She was just giving it away because, well, frankly, she'd found a new band to idolize. No big deal, right?
And then there was that "English assignment" of hers. But about that time you were starting to worry. You saw it poking out of her composition notebook during lunch one day. You knew you shouldn't read it — knew it was a major violation of privacy. But you guys were BFFs. Surely you had some right to appease your curiosity, right?
I bet you remember that "assignment" word for word, don't you? I'll bet you remember the look on her face when she saw you reading it as she came back from the lunch line with a bottle of Dasani in hand. Man, she had never been as angry in her life as she was at that moment. But you asked anyway, didn't you? What was all that morbid chat about? Is something wrong? Yeah, you were the good friend.
Sort of ignorant, though.
"No, everything was fine. Everything is going good. Don't worry. It's just an English assignment — you know how the teachers like to test our borders. Don't worry about it." All smiles, a shake of the head and it's all okay and forgotten, isn't it? Because you guys are friends and friends don't keep secrets from each other, do they?
Well, apparently she kept this one from you, didn't she? Oh, man, did she ever. She had you fooled right up 'til the day before when she called you. Remember how she said you were such a good friend and that she'd hate to ever lose you? Or how that you were like a sister to her and that you were more her family than her biological parents and siblings half the time? Didn't you feel all warm and fuzzy after hearing that in your head that night when you went to sleep?
Bet the fuzzy feeling was gone when you woke up and went to school that next morning only to have the words of her "English assignment" read over the intercom. Suicide note? Never. Not her.
She would have told you if something was wrong. She was your friend. BFF. You shared everything. Why not this? This… no… not… real. Something just wasn't right.
But I guess some things just really aren't between friends…
Some things you just really don't know…
Not even in the people you knew best…
…Or thought you did, at least…