The Girl I Used to Know

I had only met you once, before that night. 
It was a cold early spring evening, with a chill in the air, but nothing a stylish jacket and nerdy hat wouldn’t solve.

My head was pounding from days of migraines, but I wanted to see friends, as I always did. Lonely by nature, and exhausted all the time makes for a strange social butterfly.

 We had one friend there, and then two, and so I said, sure invite the third. You had seemed nice enough.

I think maybe you had a rough week because you drank heavily and opened up that night. 

You were hurt as a child, in monstrous ways.

As you got older, it got stranger but better.

You engaged in lively argument with our psychologist friend that night. You were making the point that you can’t let hardship define you, I think, in that whole conversation.

My head pounded and I just wanted you to leave. But you had opened up so much, I didn’t want to push it.

The next day I though about it all; you annoyed the hell out of me. But I thought about what you shared.

For the pain they caused you, there is no excuse I can make.

For damage that was done to a poor little girl, I can’t imagine how you can heal.

You are strong for living despite it all.

I am so sorry that happened to you.

I decided you were just trying, like we all were. And since my friends liked you, I wanted to be your friend too.

Women against the world.

One for all and all for one.

I thought I could defend you from other people’s slander. I didn’t listen to what they said, because I thought I was getting to know you. I finally had a nerdy female friend, who was just wholly “misunderstood” by others and I was ready to protect that.

But I didn’t know you would pay your pain forward.

I didn’t know you could fake friendship so well.
I didn’t know 

That the girl with the nightmarish childhood

Would become my nightmare.


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