112 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
112 lines
5.6 KiB
Plaintext
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$$$$$$$$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$$$ hogz of entropy #181
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$$$$$P $$$$ $$$$ moo, oink, up your butt.
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$$$$P $$$$ x$$$$
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$$$P $$$$ xP$$$$ d$$$$$$$$$$$.
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$$$. $$$$xP $$$$ $$$$$$' >$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$. $$$$P $$$$ 4$$$$$. .$$$$'
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$$$$'`4$$$b. $$$$ $$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$P'
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$$$$b 4$$$$b. $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$< %%
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$$$$$b 4$$$$$x $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$ %%
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>> "There Was A Girl" <<
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by -> Neko
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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It was an overcast gray day when it all ended. As cliche as it
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sounds, it's true. (By the way, everything is a cliche, and good luck
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finding some emotion, some phrase that isn't based on something else -- but
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that's another column).
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I was at the mall, of all places. The last time I was at the mall was
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six months before this. That time I had gone for one reason: to see her.
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Girls. One girl. It always boils down to one, doesn't it? You meet
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someone, you think you hit it off, things don't work out how you expect, but
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you think you're friends, right? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. I wish our
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world was open enough to just be able to walk up to someone and say, "Hi,
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let's _do_ something," and if they don't want to, they'd be cool enough to
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tell you and things could still work out and everyone would be happy. I wish
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I was open enough to do that.
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Anyway, there was a girl. Well, she's not dead, so I suppose there IS
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a girl. In any case, we're talking about a girl. I've known her for a long
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time, but it wasn't until about two years ago that I got to talking to her.
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I thought we connected - I talked to her about anything and everything and
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the simple fact that she existed with an open ear helped me out a lot.
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Something I've recently come to realize, though, is how little I know
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about her. For all the effort I put into things, there was none coming back.
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I know her name, her birthday, and where she goes to school. Maybe a little
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bit more.
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I wonder why she never felt comfortable opening up to me. Maybe I was
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just too incessant. I don't know. Maybe I didn't handle my side correctly.
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Whatever. It doesn't matter.
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That summer, I wanted more than anything to simply get together and
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do things. She worked, and was hard to get a hold of during the day -- I can
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understand that. I left messages, emails, even resorted to sending letters,
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but to no avail. I can't recall one time when she's actually returned a call
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of mine, much less initiated one. She says she's bad about email, but she
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rarely returned them and never initiated them.
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That was all okay. I was riding high on hope -- she had said things
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that maybe I misinterpreted, I don't know, but I thought there was a higher
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connection than saying hi at school.
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Then I left for a year. When I left, I was highly disillusioned with
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everyone I called 'friend'. I viewed my year abroad not only as a test for
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me, but as a test for my _friends_. Who would prove to be a _true friend_? I
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expected a letter from her. I waited. Waited. Waited. Finally I gave up and
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relegated myself to looking longingly at her picture every once in a while.
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Showing her picture to my friends and family in Russia I was often asked if
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she was my girlfriend. "No," I would answer, always with hope inside that
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someday...
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Once I got email access in Russia I figured it would be easier to
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communicate. I'd email her, and my other friends, about once a week or so. I
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rarely got messages back. When I did they usually ended with her talking
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about how much of a hurry she is in and how she has to go. But it was okay.
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It made me happy just to get mail from her.
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I came home in June. I've seen her three times since then. She came
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to my homecoming party, I drove out to the mall once just to say 'hi' to her
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(and received a promise that she would call -- I don't know how late I
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stayed up that night waiting..always waiting), and I went to her graduation
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/ going-away party (which, I must give credit, I did receive an invitation
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for).
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She's at college now. Having a good time, I would presume, as I
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haven't heard anything to the contrary. I rarely hear from her, and when I
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do it's only because I've written. I wrote her and told her about my
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feelings and basically explained exactly what I've written above, with the
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underlining question, "why?" I never got a good explanation from her, but
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then again, she never was one for writing. At least not for writing me.
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Cut to Thanksgiving. I call her and she's around. We talk for awhile.
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She says she's only home for a couple days and can't meet with me but we'll
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definitely do something over Christmas vacation.
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A little bit later: I get an email saying when she'll be home and
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that she'll call me that night. The night she was home was December 13th.
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It's been nearly a month -- no call.
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So, like I started off the column, I went to the mall today. This
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time I went to exchange something, but since she works at the mall I thought
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maybe I'd walk by and see if she was there.
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She was.
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I kept walking. My eyes began to water.
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I left, got in my car and drove away, listening to the melodically
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depressing sounds of Hum.
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This time is the end for real.
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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* (c) HoE publications. HoE #181 -- written by Neko -- 1/13/98 *
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