day 8, to your Internet friend

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Day 8. Your favorite Internet friend

Hey,

I've always said that I was largely unaffected by break-ups. That was true. With the exception of your Fourth of July disaster. After months of our parents driving each other to the others' house, months of summer gym and friends running between us to pass messages, you'd decided that it was best to hide in your mom's van while I walked around the fairgrounds looking for you. You decided it was best to dump me over the pay phone.

You were 14. It's not like, looking back, I should have expected something better, but the feeling of running down the fair grounds' midway, tears rolling down my cheeks, still sticks to a part of my stomach. I feel bad for that girl, who had invested too much.

That's one story–a tiny bit of how I knew you. The other part of you was wonderful. You were at the Catholic school, and I lived for the two hours a day we would spend typing to each other–half words, half emoticons–on instant messenger services after school. I don't know how I found you, how we became friends, why we started talking, how I agreed to be your girlfriend when I'd never seen you for more than two minutes as we passed each other in the hallway (since your school shipped you to my public school for math). I don't know how we got to date, since both of us were to young by all of our parents' standards, or how you paid for the movies we went to.

I do know that even after our break-up, when you kept typing messages to me or leaving messages, asking if you could call, I felt the moment of running down the midway, of losing you to a girl that you would then complain to me about when I allowed you to call. I do know that each time you unexpectedly came back into my life, for visits or e-mails or calls, it still broke or burnt or moved a part of me.

We haven't talked in nearly two years now, and I remember your last call. I was worried about you, as I had always worried about you. And then it stopped. I hope you're okay. I don't use messenger services any more. I don't check Myspace. I don't know where you are, but I hope you're well.

Thanks,
Megan

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