Part 1~Friends: Jane

A Chapter by KewlJewl

Jane

“Jane!” They would cry out, “Let’s be friends!”

“Yes,” I would reply with a smile, “Friends forever.” These words were always followed by a handshake, a hug, a laugh. Always followed by betrayal.

* * *

It was December and of course, my mother just had to invite a gazillion people over to our house for a Christmas party. Below, I could hear the clicking of the door as it opened and closed, the sound of feet, and the infuriating sound of pointless chatter. “How’s the weather?” “Great!” We all live under the same sky in the same state in the same city. They all came through the same door and look out the same windows. So why do they ask each other such obvious, pointless questions?

The noise floats into my room and my door is ajar. How? I never leave my door open. Jumping up, I ran up to close the door and stop the flow of noise when my mother’s voice called, “Jane! Jane come down here and say hi to the neighbors!”

With a sigh I trudged down the stairs and entered my neutral mode. When in neutral mode I may look unhappy but in reality I’m neither happy nor sad. I said my hellos, grabbed some food than went back up to my room.

My room is my territory. If you come in, you state your purpose then leave. If you want to talk to me, you aren’t allowed to stay more than half an hour. But why doesn’t anyone understand?

After about an hour, the gentle knocking on my door signified that my mother wanted to talk. She quietly opened the door and left it open behind her. She came over and sat down on my bed.

“Close the door. Why are you here?” I asked. She just smiled gently at me, not closing the door and not telling me her purpose.

“Jane,” she began, “Jane I know you don’t like large crowds but you have to learn to be more sociable. It’s not good to be so unsociable at your age. You need to talk more, make more friends.”

“Yes mam.” I’ve heard this lecture millions of times already. Even though she was smiling, my mother was disappointed in me. She had wanted someone that was more than I could ever be. Well it’s not my fault that this is the way I am!

Everybody is telling me to make more friends, to talk more, to be more social. I heard the word everywhere. Friends this, friends that. Just shut up! I get it! I’m not the type of person you wanted! Now go away!

My mother even made me read a list of quotes about friendship in an attempt to “inspire” me to make friends. I remember one, by the all so famous Helen Keller, “I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.” But who can I depend on to walk with me in the dark? Every “friend” has abandoned me for another, leaving me to wander through the dark of life alone. Leaving me to scramble around while they went happily with another.

So I chose the path of light. I chose the path where I could see where I wouldn’t have to scramble around, where I was alone. No one to hinder me in my passing and no one to abandon me. There was no one to hurt me. But there was also no one to love me.

I’ve been down that road of friendship a thousand times and I need not go down it again. Why can’t my mom just leave me alone and go talk to the people she invited over to this stupid party? I’ve already memorized your lecture but no matter what you do, I know the truth. These friends are no good for me and I’ve chosen to give up on them. They will always abandon me. I am merely a back-up to them. I am worthless.

As I lay on my bed, I can hear people calling me selfish and insolent. They were telling my mom that all was well and she needn’t worry about me. After all, I was just an unsociable brat who had no friends. But in the end, I was the one who laughed and scoffed at them. They lecture me on and on about making friends yet they go out and do the exact opposite. Hypocrites.

No matter what I did, I could never find a true friend who would walk with me in the dark instead of walking with other friends. I had no one who gave me their trust, their loyalty, their friendship, their love.

I had tried so hard to make friends and make my mother happy, to once again see her real smile, dazzling the world around her. But it was this want to make friends that formed me into who I am now. My efforts were futile. The more “friends” I made, the more I was hurt. Hiding the scars, I would test people. If they noticed my wounds, they passed. If they had not a clue, they failed.

Since I began doing this, no one has passed.

. . .

After a while my mother began to worry again. I had stopped even trying to make friends. She scheduled an appointment with a therapist and that is how I ended up sitting in this ridiculous blue plastic chair with a smiling lady holding a clipboard in front of me. Therapists are nothing but people who are ignorant. They pretend to know everything. They pretend that they know what you are talking about. But in reality, they have not a clue.

I tried to explain to her. She would nod and look at me with fake concern in her eyes. Then she pulled my mom over to corner two feet away from me and had a “quiet” discussion as if they thought I couldn’t hear them.

“She needs to make friends. Friends will definitely heal her heart,” the therapist murmured. Friends will heal me? They are the ones who caused my pain and despair. I had tried to explain this to her, but as I said, therapists are ignorant, they only pretend to know.

In my next appointment I directly told her, “Friends caused these scars upon my heart. For sixteen years now and not a single person has healed them.”

“Jane, my dear,” the therapist began with that annoying voice of hers, “You need a true friend who will hold your heart in their hands, cry with you, laugh with you, and grieve with you.” No will laugh with me, only at me. And the only time we shall “grieve” together is when another friend is gone. It was always about someone else. It was never about me. Ever. No one will ever cry with me, not even my mother. Doesn’t she understand? In sixteen years no one has shown up. Does she expect me to wait twenty years? To suffer twenty years before I find a “true friend?”

And so, I became, not a sweet, friendly, sociable, girl, but Jane, the mysterious person you always left alone, or else. I take the blame for this change, but in reality it is those who blame me that deserve the blame. I have yet to find this “someone” who will heal my heart and bring me back to life. For at the moment, there is no reason for me to exist. I am only here to experience pain so others do not have to. I am the living dead.