“Reality it seems, was just a dream, She couldn’t get it on with the boys on the scene, But what do you expect from a chick who’s just sixteen?, And hey, hey, hey (hey, hey, hey) you know what I mean” Bernie Taupin / Elton John
“If you can’t be my friend than f*ck you, you ain’t worthy of my love.” Those were the words in my letter and this is the story behind it.
I will write with keeping A anonymous. No reason to intrude on her life though the likelihood of her coming across this at this time is mighty slim. Perhaps one day I will be a famous writer of grand proportions, or maybe I’ll do some great thing, or maybe both and my words will become valuable. As it is if I get a hundred hits on the blog it is a rip-roaring success.
It was in my days of college. It was my third go at college. First, came engineering school where I dropped out in my junior year. My leaving of school was followed by my first stay in a psychiatric hospital where I was committed. After years of recovery, I attempted a return and I failed. That is a story for another day. In my third attempt, I went to county college. After three years or so I graduated and moved on to a four-year school.
I really didn’t know many students. Though my major was math I took a poetry course. I didn’t need the credits I just had a love for the art. After poetry class, I went to my physics class. To my delight and surprise, there was a young lady who was in both of my classes. I approached her and I talked to her pointing out that we had both classes together. I suggested we exchange phone numbers. It made sense logistically. She was reluctant. This is how I met A.
So time passed and we became friends to a point. How far that friendship was I don’t know. We studied together and we hung out during meals. When I say ‘we’ it wasn’t A and I alone but rather a group of us together at least usually. I recall one time A and I were alone. She was very nervous because she wanted me to look at her poetry. She was very insecure about her writing afraid of criticism. Yet at the same time, she wanted to share what she wrote. I looked at the poetry and very kindly complimented her. I don’t know if the poetry was good but I know it wasn’t bad. I recall one poem about nuclear war that stood out. Even if the poetry was awful, which it was not, I had sense enough not to tear down a delicate young artist.
Well, I went on to graduate and after school, I attempted to change my psychotropic medicines. My psychiatrist was very irresponsible during this time. I called him telling him I was having problems. Without even seeing me he simply suggested a change in medicines. I nearly returned to the psychiatric hospital and it was a huge setback. It was during this manic time that I had an idea of creating a poetry magazine.
I reached out to A and Jennifer O’Brien. I am using Jennifer’s real name because she was a wonderful person and a good friend. She kept up with me after graduation for several years. Unfortunately, due to my mental illness, my social skills and confidence were hampered. So God bless you, Jennifer, you were a true friend. A, on the other hand, was not. The three of us began formulating plans for the poetry magazine but then it fell apart as my thinking got grandiose. As a result A totally ditched me.
It was several years later I wrote these words in a letter “If you can’t be my friend than f*ck you, you ain’t worthy of my love.” For some reason, I was thinking about the matter. A couple of weeks later I get a phone call. It was from a classmate of mine from college. I couldn’t even remember who he was. He fumbled around asking me what I was doing and then got to the point. He had married A and she was offended by my letter. Of course, I apologized to him and explained the situation.
I then took it upon myself to write a letter. In it, I said, “I am sorry that you were offended by my words.” This was not an apology. A was a cool person whom I thought was understanding. She ditched me in a time of need. The correct way to read my words is one of disappointment in how A turned out. She abandoned me as a friend when I needed a friend the most and then when I called her on it she got offended.
It wasn’t the first time a ‘friend’ did that to me and it wasn’t the last. I’ve forgiven her and forgotten her. The only reason I am writing this blog is that I was out of ideas. I went to a sheet of blog ideas and there was the title for the blog. And A if you’re out there please get in touch. I can probably help you get your poetry published.
I also incorporated the title of this blog into a line in a poem from my book “Polishing The Fragments” It is a great book of poetry so check it out. https://amzn.to/2NkxT06
Photos by Internet Archive Book Images,