I was chatting with my best friend Lisa earlier. How I met her 2 years ago through my blog will always be memorable to me as long as I live. She emailed me out of the blue in February of 2006 one evening and told me that she goes to the University where I work and has the same problems as me. It was a meeting by fate. We only met because we have problems. That was really all we had in common.

I met her the next day, and I still remember it like it was yesterday. I left work during my lunch brake in that cold February day, and just went to the Library and found her. At that moment I didn’t make any judgments of the type of person she is. I didn’t think of why in the world I am meeting a person off my blog who believed that she had the same problems as me. Was it really fate?

On that day she told me that she shares the same birthday as me, but is a year younger. I was a bit shocked, but thought, no, this is a coincidence. Why her?

Our hour meeting at noon turned out to be a 2 hour meeting. Maybe even more. I don’t remember going back to work before 2. We talked and talked like we have known one another for years and we were just catching up. That bond of loneliness brought us together. Two torn hearts wondering why life turned out the way it did.

Her story is worse that mine in detail, but similar in actions. What did she do and how much did she sacrifice for someone she loved? What did I do and how much I sacrificed as well? It was too much. Far too much.

Then the days passed by. She lived a completely different life than me. We are opposite people in actions, reactions, and life choices. The more I got to know her, the more I was curious of why she was acting the way she did. Is this her type of reaction to loneliness? I felt that she lived two lives that somehow she was forced into. She was forced to be someone else when loneliness hit her more and more.

I didn’t understand it at the time, but I questioned it in my head. I just learned to be quiet and watch. If I gave advice, what was I going to gain? Would she change the way she is? I didn’t think so. The more she tried to change, the more lonely she felt. The harder she tried to forget and move on, the lonelier she became. She has a heavy shield around her. Worse than mine, or maybe similar. I don’t know. I never was able to analyze my self. All I know, that she expressed her loneliness in completely different ways than what I would have done.

At times, out of selfishness and wishing that I wasn’t the only person who has wasted years of her life, I just listened to her to make my self feel better. I kept wondering that maybe fate brought her to me to learn and feel another person’s pain. That I am not alone, and others suffer worse, and react worse to situations than me.

Me. What about me? I forgot who I am. I look into the mirror every day, and count the number of white hairs at the edge of my forehead. I look at my eyes and see that I have become a sad person. That a smile is hard to get out of me. I laugh because I have to. I smile because it is the only way to show others that I am alright. I can’t even walk alone anymore without thinking, what if? Why me? Why her? Why us? Is this our fate?

She moved shortly after I met her back to her home city. I didn’t miss her much at first. I wanted to test her motives and what type of person she was. All of the sudden she would come and visit. And she constantly did times and times again. I then realized that she would travel the distance for someone she cares about. In return, I would anxiously be waiting for her to come so I won’t feel that I am alone. We share those moments of simple happiness of being together and forgetting why life has turned out the way it did for us. To just forget.

However, earlier this evening, she was telling me that she called him. The one that she loved, the one that broke her heart, the one that made her life miserable for the past 2 years. And then she said to me, “his number doesn’t work anymore. Neither does his work number.” I just said, “maybe he is dead.” Don’t people die? Or we just wish they die so we can finally forget. Obviously my pessimistic answer didn’t please her, but that ounce of hope that she possesses is the same ounce that is left in me that I desperately want to remove from inside my heart. I want to forget. Things are gone. Things ended. I want her to understand that as well so maybe both of us will finally move on. To finally realize that we can’t keep pretending and living a memory of our past.

The memory is dead. It really is.

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