Sometimes, I wonder why I bother. You put your trust in someone, only to have it betrayed. Maybe I should start at the beginning. Recently, I've been called things I'm not. Accused of doing things I didn't. I know why, and at the same time I don't, because while empathy is possible, total empathy isn't. I wish I could achieve that total empathy, look through someone else's eyes and feel what they're feeling, see what they're seeing. But I can't. Somehow, this just makes me see myself as a failure. People tell me to watch out for the consequences of my actions. And I do, and I try. I think I'm getting better, but I'm not always sure, because there's something I overlook every time. Always something, no matter how small... I miss it. Does this make me a horrible person? I'd hope not, because everyone misses things, and that would mean everyone's horrible. Now, this whole accusation thing wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that I care about the person accusing me. I care about him a lot, actually... I could say I love him as a friend. If I didn't, I wouldn't be crippled the way I am. This is a person I would bend over backwards for; in fact, I think I have. Gone out of the way to show that he's loved and appreciated. I confided in him, trusted him, and then he went and did this. I don't know if I should laugh at the irony of it all or scream at the world around me. Things aren't so simple as that, though. Something's happening. I'm not sure what, but something is. Why do people take their frustrations out on others not even involved? Isn't that silly, when a mother has a bad day at work, so she yells at her children? Does she watch out for the consequences of her actions, for the repercussions the children may show? Never simple. I wish, sometimes, that the world was a simple place. But it's not. Or maybe it is, and people complicate things. I've been accused, put down, and now ignored by my friend, and I still consider him my friend, and I hurt. Hurt tremendously. I don't know if I can begin to explain, but I'll try. It's like feeling angry and sad at the same time. But not the clean burning anger that comes and goes quickly, leaving nothing in its wake. No, this is much worse. It's sinister, this anger, this sadness. It's cold and hot at the same time. It sits inside of you, building and building until it consumes your soul. Do you understand? This is the anger of vengeance. This is what I'm feeling. They tell me to watch out for the consequences of my actions. And that's the only reason I haven't done something so hurtful that it'd kill the friendship. Because I want to keep it. It's very dear to me... he's very dear to me. I watch my friend teeter on the brink of destruction even as I and others do the same. I want to hurt, and at the same time I want to heal. Which do I want more? It disgusts me. It makes me feel dirty... why do I feel like this? It would be so much easier if I didn't care, then I wouldn't worry and let it wash by me. He's silent. I can't speak to him. This just hurts more. It makes me think that he doesn't care, even though I know he does. He has to, right? He wouldn't lie to me. Why must people go silent? I told him before all this that I hate being ignored. It's torture. Is he enjoying torturing me? I hope not. I really do. I have too much faith in him to believe that. But at the same time, a small part of me is telling me that he does. He lashes out at me and the world around him, and he shouldn't get away with it, should he? But I have to watch out for the consequences of my actions. I can't give in, I can't. This writing... it's catharsis. It's supposed to keep me from giving in. Maybe I'll send it to him. Maybe I won't. It seems that no matter what I do, action or inaction, hurt or heal, it only makes things worse. I lose no matter what. This sort of thing's fun to write and read, but I hate experiencing it. I feel betrayed. What happened hurt me and others. I don't know why people feel the need to do this; I wish I did. I wish I could achieve that empathic connection. But I can't. The feeling is gone now. This helped. But I'm fairly sure it'll be back. And when it is, I don't know what to do. People tell me to watch out for the consequences of my actions. I wish others would do the same. I wish he'd talk to me. * * * * * Notes: This isn't fiction. This is who I am, and what I think. After debating as to whether or not I should send this, I decided to. Know me. Understand me. Please. Arwen Tyler (Ardweden)