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You’re stuck in an elevator with a person from your past. Write this scene.

Oh the possibilities! The cringe-worthy, blood boiling, panic attack inducing possibilities! But which to choose? Do I confront every bully from my past en masse into one large bully demon and force out the one answer I need to the one question I have; why me? No. It doesn’t matter any more.

Do I confront my stalker and ask him just what the hell is his problem? No. I know what his problem is. He has psychological issues and issues with women. And problems I’m in no way inclined to want to ever hear about, especially being stuck in an elevator with him. He’s a kind of psycho you’d claw your own brains out just to end your misery.

I know. I know exactly who I would want to be in this exact scenario with.

She was one of my closest friends. Her name was Anna. We had become inseparable. We went on vacations together, concerts together, and just pretty much did everything together. She was one of those girls who was brought up extremely privileged. I didn’t think much of it, but her other friends liked to rub your nose in it. We would all hang out, go to clubs, and when she got married, I was the first one she came to when she asked to be a bridesmaid. Even at the age we were (respectfully 27 or so), we spent the night together like we were 7 or 8. We were just that close.

I was kind of the “odd man out” of the group. I wasn’t deliciously rich. I didn’t have the plastic surgeries to enhance myself or my features. But, she treated me like an equal. Her friends were nice to me, but it was more because they had to be. We kept secrets from them, like the vacations just the two of us went on to Aruba, Mexico, and such. We went on secret shopping trips, and even went to secret concerts without her other friends. I would be lying if I never asked myself why, especially now. But at the time, I never did. She usually said they were never any fun, or were just too stuck up to enjoy the things we enjoyed. I appreciated that. I appreciated that she confided in me to go on these adventures.

And then it ended as abruptly as it began. Yeah, I know she was married now. I was well on my way to that world, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t still be friends, did it? But, she got greedy. See, she worked for my mom. And she wanted to be paid for her job and my mom was out-of-town. I was placed in the middle. It was the most uncomfortable experience in my life. I had no control over payroll. That didn’t matter. She wanted her money and she wanted it yesterday. She didn’t care how she got paid, she didn’t care who paid her, and she didn’t care whose feelings she hurt in the process as she screamed at me over the phone, berating me and attacking my mother to me. I was at a loss. I’m never at a loss.

I contacted my mom, of course, and tried to reconcile the problem. Mom wrote Anna an e-mail explaining that I was to remain out of the picture as I had nothing to do with payroll, and that she would be paid like she was supposed to once my mom returned back to the office. I only got the short version explanation over the phone, I was never privy to the actual exchanges. Either way, I was caught in the gunfire. I felt ambushed. After I was accosted over the phone once more by Anna, her screaming, crying, and anger spewed through the earpiece, and tore through my heart; I just hung up and cried. She never talked to me again.

It wasn’t that I didn’t try to contact her. I tried to maintain an open line of communication. I felt like I was wronged in this dispute. I didn’t understand how I got caught in the middle and how I was all of a sudden blackballed. It made no sense.

So, back to the elevator.

I would love to be stuck in that elevator with her. I want to know what happened. Why was I cut out of her life as if I never mattered? Were all the secret vacations, shopping, and concerts just a way to hide me away from your perfect, rich friends because I was an undesireable? I know I wasn’t perfect. But, I didn’t care. I just wanted a friend, and I felt that I had that in you. I loved you like a person would love another; it was a platonic love. Was I some kind of embarrassment because I wasn’t some designer wearing, plastic surgery, perfectly balanced, bleach blond Barbie clone? I just want to know why. Why was our closeness so easily sacrificed. How come it was so easy for you to hurt me when I did nothing but support you in everything you did, and though I had nothing that you had, I always found a way to give you what I could and it always came from my heart.

I can forgive a lot of things in my life. I can ignore so much. What I can’t live with is not knowing what the hell happened and why you left me like I was Scott Thorson and you were Liberace, pretending we never existed. I feel I deserve to know.

Alas, I’ll never find the answers to these questions. Despite the yearning to know, she has erased any trace of herself. I’ve moved on, though slightly broken and always unsure. The big girl pants are always put on one leg at a time, just like they are every day. I’m surrounded by great family, friends, booze, and pets. Sometimes, even better booze. I’m kidding, people!

I try not to roam my life in my past. This thought-provoking daily prompt had me dive backwards a little. Which is healthy. Sometimes you have to take a few steps back to move forward again.

As far as this whole thing goes, I still hold no ill towards Anna. I’m also nowhere near as gay as Thorson and Liberace. Completely support the love, but am not of it. Despite how I act sometimes. Because Drew Barrymore, this body is yours if you’ll have me.

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