Moving forwards to an end of the classroom I noticed something strange. I picked up my art tools and saw a small stain on my thin black sweater; “shit, this is my favourite sweater”. At that same time, I heard someone asking for apologies. Urging to discover the identity of the person that tainted my art tools with red paint, I turned around and saw no-one but Driber; my old friend who stopped talking to me after two whole years. Driber; my used-to-be best friend, my ephemeral secret crush, the only one that proposed me for the first time the idea of having a love-hate relationship.
I asked him for a reasonable motive to his action. He said that it was an accident; that his colour palette was just besides my tools and “unintentionally” the tints dyed my precious utensils. Apologizing again, he offered to clean them; I refused to fall for that trick and told him that I was “fine”. Adjacent to that, he left the room and before closing the door he apologized newly. Once more, I look at him and just shake my head; trying to ignore him.
Whilst I clean my art tools and my loved sweater, I realized what I have just done. I turned down on one of my historical friends, even though we haven’t talked for so long. I still feel that he is always there with me –not as if he was a stalker, as if he’s always supporting me in the background while I perform the dances or songs of my life; the ones that keep me motivated to stay alive. He’s one of the remaining shoulders that are waiting for any emotional rainfalls, one loyal shoulder that will maintain my head up as long as I don’t shatter into pieces. Moreover, he’s my unfortunate one and only teenage-crush. And I have turned him down; I have turned away from him.
But thinking back on past events, I don’t feel guilty. He deserves every single torture that I am imposing him. Reconsidering it, he is lacking of suffering; I need a fair payback. It is possible to recall such memories; the ones that hurt deep into your heart and soul. Some people try to forget harmful reminiscences, yet, it is not my way to deal with problems. The problem with me is that I am a bitter person; previous resentments will always remain inside my obscure mind. Sometimes this makes think that I am a psychopath, additionally, if I take grudges too seriously; which I do.
Gradually, this develops into a vicious cycle. I hate it. What it does is: it forces me to shift into a paranoiac state, in which I start blaming everyone for their past or present actions. Later on, I begin to remember early occurrences that deliberately feed my antipathy towards that person; my present state. The first picture that integrated in my recalls was when he lied to me. Driber or must I say Anthony, refused to have our traditional movie night on Saturday’s just because he found this pretty face on the streets. However, he told me that he had fever that day. Liar. He can lie to me so many times in just one conversation. But not anymore, because I learnt to ignore him. And to hate him too.
Tony did not just lie to me; he even damaged many of my personal belongings. Including my most loved reading glasses. He knew that I appreciated them so much, and I know he did it on purpose; bend the glass in half. One time, he destroyed my entire living room. Using the floor as a trash can and the walls as tissues to clean his dirty hands.
This were all the memories that I recalled whilst I was walking home. I was already sketching one of my art trials in my workshop when I realised that I had an album full of our friendship photographs. As soon as I remembered, I went to fetch it without thinking twice.
The album had many photos of me and Tony having our movie nights, eating in McDonald's, drinking and getting wasted... There are so many good qualities that he had, and I was ignoring them all along. He was such a gentleman, and very considerate at many times. How can I get to be such a poor fool? I love him as much as I did the first time that I met him. Although I am forcing myself to hate him, just because I don't have him around anymore. And I turned him down; I abandoned his welcoming apologies.
When I turn the last page I saw a small yellow note. On the visible side of the note it said: "Please don't forget to read me". I opened the note and realised that it was my handwritting:
"You might be confused right now, but you have a false memory syndrome. This is what causes your vicious cycles of hatred. You imagine inexistent memories and force yourself to believe in them. Please, forgive everyone you're hating at the moment. Learn to move on from any resentment."
I just remembered, but for real; that Tony stopped talking to me because I began to fight with him for absurdities that I imagined. If it is this way, then how can I know which memories are true and which are false? What if people take advantage of my syndrome and treat me badly because of this? And if someone obliged me to write this note? Should I feel paranoid at this moment? Am I a psychopath?