Spin Me I Pulsate.

Ever have one of those days where you seem to run into your past everytime you turn a corner?

Today is one of those days. Now maybe it's because I've been walking around in a sleep deprived stupor (and it's not the kids-I suddenly have insomnia for some reason) but I swear that I've seen people today I haven't seen in almost 15 years. How in the HELL is my memory even that clear? Especially for people I didn't much like in the first place.

It really made me think about the memories I've left in the heads of others. I always wonder how I'm remembered, since the two people I "saw" weren't thought of in a good way.

First I saw 'Karen". Karen was a girl who I sorta grew up with. She lived down the street from me-her mother was on disability or something, her father rarely around, her 2 older, potsmoking, slightly scary in that oversexed way. As unattractive as the thought is, I think I was only friends with her to make my life seem better. She was angular, hard looking, like someone you can peg for being on some sort of social assistance. That sounds more terrible than it is.

Karen was one of those perpetually sad looking girl-bad acne for no reason, grew so fast she had stretch marks up her back. However, I didn't feel that bad for her, since she could eat whatever she wanted and not gain a pound.

I had a love hate relationship with Karen. She was my back up. Girls, you know you had back up too. If no one else wanted to hang out with me, there was always Karen. Good old Karen, who would be dust in the wind if someone "cooler" said "Hey!"

Just because I'm me doesn't mean I was totally immune to this shit as a kid.

The worst was just after my mother died. It was obvious that kids mother's felt sorry for me, and made their children invite me to their parties. I wasn't exactly party material. I was a dorky weird kid who said weird things and had no Mom. Who wants THAT at a party. Add to that my sheer bulk-I was about 5'5 in grade 6, and shaped like a linebacker. Not exactly girly.

But me being 11, I threw these party invitations in Karen's face, making it like I was suddenly popular. I remember in particular being at a "cool" girl's house, and making fun of Karen out the window as she rode her bike. Karen stopped, and yelled up at me,

"They only invite you because your Mother died, and their mother's made them. They don't LIKE you."

It only hurt because it was so disgustingly true. 6 months after all this, as my weirdness only increased, no one talked to me other than Karen and a few other outsiders. It's likely good that I lived mostly in my own head at that point.

Seeing this woman who looked so much like Karen, the same tenseness in her shoulders, the tight hairstyle, the tauntness I've come to associate with her, I started feeling very, very badly. I was a horrible friend to a person who, while she may have never been anything special, never did anything to me. How does she remember me? Am I the girl who gave her some huge complex about herself, about her self worth?

Or am I the girl she never thinks about? Am I the girl who put her in therapy, who she'd slap if she saw? Is she uber successful now, and never ever thinks of me? Am I the terrible person I think I was?

The same day, I saw "Shane", a guy who looked exactly like the brother of someone I briefly dated in highschool. Sadly, I never gave him, or his brother enough credit. Aside from some terrible haircuts, and poor clothes, they were incredibly sweet boys, raised right with good hearts. I was always a little scared, a little attracted to Shane. But dating his brother was uncomfortable for me, as I was new to the town, and not really sure if he was my "type" (meaning, was I too good for him). Shane always seemed to read through this.

The guy I dated went on to make another girl very very happy, which made me smile sadly. Could I have deserved that? I always believed that he would have treated me that way, if I had of let him. But I never did, and his brother, Shane, hated me for that. Hated me for in some small way, breaking his heart. Rumours had passed that I had been messing around on him, which I hadn't been. I tried talking to them, but there's no way to talk to a dramatic 15 year old boy who thinks his honour has been ruined. He had looked at me with a certain light that he never shone in my direction ever again. I was too busy being convinced that no one would ever like me for ME, and generally tried pushing people away before they broke my heart.

I wonder if they both still hate me sometimes.

Am I the only person who wonders about what other people think of them, 15 years on?

Posted by thordora on Friday, March 24, 2006 at 7:30 a.m. | Permalink