What Do You Want From Me?

Her

Diane was a kind, gentle young women. She was willing to help with all of my problems, and anyone else that found they needed to hear her words of wisdom and understanding. She had a way of looking into your eyes and you knew then and there, that no matter what you said she wasn't going to judge you, and I knew the first time I truly did it, that she wasn't ever going to hurt me.

I met her while grabbing lunch at University of Puget Sound in 1966. I was destracted, laughing with my friends about the stress that was consuming every sickening inch of my soul, that was created by the lovely bar exam. I was trying to understand what sort of dumb shit Allan was saying when I heard her voice behind me. She was giggling with her two closest friends. They would grip at each other and lean in together, cackling away as if they were watching some comedy special. One friend was short and stout, reminding me of a small italian wrestler. The other was a tall, slender women, with shoulderlengh black hair, and she had the eyes of a listener. I knew just from looking at her, that this women could be a dear friend of mine. Diane though, wasn't somebody that I could look past. She was of an average height, with long black hair that was parted in half, half lying on one shoulder, the other half lying on the opposing shoulder.

I wasn't wrong about any of them ten years later down the road. The short one is now currently fighting on the streets to make more money for college, the tall one is one of my best friends, I don't think I could handle if she knew all of the truths about me, and Diane, well for a time I was right about her. I could lean on her for about anything, I was closer to her than anyone else to date. But I was wrong about her. I believed she would never hurt me, but that's exactly what she did. And in doing so, hurt others.

My time spend with her was not the typical love story you are all waiting for. We had our fights and oh believe me, we had our unfixable dillemas. Maybe that's where I am. Maybe that's why she broke up with me in my car, the same car that I wasted gas on in order to take us to the heartbreak forest. Maybe that's why she had me drive her all the way to somwhere private to no on could see the slight hurt pass over my face while I tried to keep it all in and maybe that's why that forest is where I chose to be disposed of if I ever decided to die before my time.