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Today was the Friday before Spring Break, meaning that this semester is already halfway over. Considering how distracted from work I’ve been lately, this came as a bit of a surprising realization. This morning came another odd development.
During first period, the kids are taking a test and I’m not even really in teacher mode anymore. I get a text saying, “Check your door,” from B. I was dumbfounded for a moment. I really didn’t even think it was a real text at first, since I assumed she’d blocked my number long ago. After I double-checked that the text was truly from her, I could only guess that she must’ve dropped off some of my belongings at my door. I’d asked her to return some things weeks ago and never heard back, so I assumed she’d thrown them away or kept what she wanted.
Instead, on the front of my door was a post-it note that said, “I really miss your friendship . . .” This confused me further. Did she really leave that, or was it maybe Anna, or maybe a student who knows enough to try some sort of prank? It just seemed like such an odd way to get in touch. If B still had my number, she could’ve just texted that, instead of leaving a note in plain view in the hallway. It just seemed so . . . roundabout.
Once I concluded that it had to be her, the words sank in. It meant a lot to me, to know that her feelings towards me aren’t 100% pure animosity. You wouldn’t write a note to someone to tell them you miss them if you absolutely hate them. I told myself not to read into the message though, to not get my hopes up about reconciliation. I only began to get over this incident a couple weeks ago, when I finally gave up that things could be fixed between us. I’ve been low-grade miserable since then, but this is much more bearable than the emotional weeks that preceded it. If I got my hopes up unnecessarily I’d just go back to that agonizing limbo. One short note doesn’t change anything.
I wanted to respond, “You never lost my friendship,” or, “It doesn’t have to be like this,” but all I replied with was, “Me too. Like whoa.” I’m certain her note wasn’t an invitation for dialogue, but neither could I not respond to it.

I tried not to read into the note, but here I am a day later wondering, “Why would she even write that?”, pondering this note like it’s something significant. Up until now it seemed so clear that all she wanted from me was distance and silence. If she wanted this friendship dead and buried, why visit the grave? At this point we’ve been strangers longer than we were friends. The only way I’ve been able to get over this friendship is by trying my best to forget it. Don’t remind me of what I’ve lost. Don’t show kindness to me.
I don’t get it.


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