Cutting The Cord

      I had to break off a virtual relationship today. I had the decency to wait until he had left without saying goodbye, and then I did the deed. I had no choice. When I first met him, I was pretty excited because we both had a Friends List so full that neither of us had room; and we each deleted someone just to add one another. I thought that was so cool.
      Today I blocked him. Not because he was perverted, which he wasn't; not because he wasn't friendly, which he was; but because he was way too friendly. I mean it was quite annoying. He would buy the same car I bought, and then no matter which car I wanted to drive, he'd change to the same type. And then he'd follow me. And every time I strayed too far, he asked me over and over, "Where are you? Where are you?" And somehow, no matter where I went, no matter if I stayed on the roads or glitched into a hidden building, he'd find me. And then he'd drive in circles around me. "What will we do next? What now?" He had the boundless, tiresome energy of a child; with the gamer knowledge of an expert and the possessive, controlling, manipulative, demanding qualities of an egotistical boyfriend. He would sit there and boss people around; and if somebody didn't join an event he queued, he would order that everyone leave. He'd also bitch and moan you into a guilt trip if you told him the truth, no matter what it might be.
      I couldn't take it anymore.
      Yes, I like my friends. My old friends. They were people I didn't dread talking to. I have two new ones I like; but we don't speak much anymore. One of them cut the cord with me because I had different religious beliefs; and then he asked to be my friend again a week later because apparently, he missed my listening ear, my shoulder to cry on, my advice about his personal life; like what should he do about Jenna or Jamie or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was. I put everything into friendships when I like that person, and he ditched me for a religious belief, or lack thereof, which had been the same when we met, and now all of a sudden it's a problem. Okay, so maybe I should have been mad at the time. I was just frustrated and sad, just like a subservient little housewife with her tail between her legs. Now I'm feeling some anger, I guess; because that was pretty crappy of him. But I smiled and got over it, and now look, both he and our mutual friend are ignoring me once again. Well, not constantly. We speak once in awhile, but I think we all lost something. The friend who ditched me for a week, we'll call him 1, when he speaks to me it's normally a good conversation, unless I catch him late, in which case we speak for an hour or so before he goes to bed. And our mutual friend, who we'll call 2, never ditched me over something as petty as a difference of opinion. But, when 2 and I talk, we say a few short words. "Hi, how are ya?" "Good." "Same." "Yea" And poof, gone. He used to always say hi first, and those conversations would fly. It's not like that anymore. I say hi and it goes to shit.
      So maybe the old saying, "It's not you, it's me" really does work in this case. Maybe it is me. I make friends I think are golden, and they either leave - or make me wish they had. I have friends on my list who have been inactive for more than two years. I have deleted relatively new friends who have been inactive for two weeks, simply because they don't come on anymore. Neither do old friends, but they're staying on that list. The difference that keeps them on my list that they spoke to me once. They made me laugh and they included me in their fun times. They made me care about them, though we never met, and they were like a second family. I never wanted to say goodbye at night. But they didn't have that problem. They said goodbye and years passed.
      So basically, if they don't die for real, they just die inside, and are no fun anymore. I'm assuming the friends I haven't seen in years made a suicide pact and all died in one room at one time, because after a few of them said they were giving up on life, they all vanished at once.
      I tried to talk one out of suicide. She had tried the night before, to kill herself. Said she was cutting. Said she was standing on a chair with a rope around her neck, and then she untied it and collapsed on her bed sobbing. She wasn't living a good life, and I'm not even sure if committing suicide was the right answer for her. I know it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem, and it doesn't make life easier for those around you, and you can't take it back, and as you lie there dying you'll be filled with regrets you can never rectify. But her problems lived around her, in her house. Maybe she had no regrets.
      And maybe they really were suicidal and have been locked away in a psych ward. Maybe they're all alive and well, laughing and talking and not even thinking of me. But I wouldn't doubt for a moment that they gave up and kept their promise and died together. They said they would. They were at the other end of the chat room, crying and asking me - me, of all people - what the purpose of life was. I sent the prettiest words I could. I guess I failed. How could I have done it any differently? I was trying to find the purpose of it all myself. The difference is, I'm still here. I said my friends and my family were the reason I woke each morning, and that I would continue to wake.
      Oh, hell. Why did I say that to someone with family problems? I was just luring her into it. I was making her depressed, and I was flaunting in her face the one thing she didn't have. I killed my friend. My words killed my friend. And because she had made a pact, her friends died with her, because of what I said. I get it now. Good fucking Lord.
      ...Of course, that's only if they did kill themselves. Maybe they were cops, keeping an eye on people, finding out what people would say when the topic of a bunch of youngsters offing themselves came up. But that's only what my mother and brother think. Maybe they were just stringing me along, setting me up for a fall I would take alone. It wouldn't be the first time.
      I was never good at making friends. My stepfather once tried to make my friends for me. He would approach children in the street and ask them if they would come inside his house and meet his lonely daughters. He would send them into their parents' arms, making whole families hysterical.
      Thank goodness he never came inside my school. My mother always picked me up and dropped me off. School was hard enough without his interventions. I was the victim of pranks, unkindness, even bullying. Fake insects were put in my locker. My hands were stepped on. I was deliberately tripped. Pencil shavings were put in my hair. Water was put in my seat. My fingers were shoved into an electric pencil sharpener. I was framed for cheating. Which of course I didn't do. I was marking a kid's test, I was still learning how to spell, I wrote a letter in my name backwards, he thought I was erasing his answers and the teacher never gave me a chance to explain myself. School was tough, and I faked illness so often just to get the fuck out of there. I was abandoned several times. Once in the library. I lost focus on what the teacher was saying and had to wander the halls until the teacher realized I was missing and sent someone to find me. And once in the ditch. I got dizzy, I walked sideways and fell in, and they kept walking. Never looked back. Fortunately my mother was driving by and she saw me. By then some kids were pulling me out of the grass, and I just got into the car and asked to be driven home. I don't think I waved to those kids or even thanked them for getting me back to my feet. I hope I thanked them, but that's the one part of that incident I can't recall.
      One person. Just one with a kind heart and I'd find so much I'm missing.