No One Likes Me

No one likes me. I have no friends. Last night I lost my last friend when I inadvertently read her online journal. To my shock I discovered that she thinks nothing but the worst of me. I guess, no, know, that I am an atrocious person.
Our fight began a while ago when I sent her what was meant to be taken as sarcasm regarding her failure to once again turn up here at the specified date and time. I had already had a horrific evening however I assumed that the situation had changed. Her message on my answering machine was vague and all I said was “I’ll forgive you if you visit me when I am in town this weekend.”
To make matters worse she had discovered my online journal that I had kept a secret because I really didn’t want ANYONE I knew to know what I was going through. What I had written regarding her was not terribly mean by any manner- rather my version of a situation that we saw differently. I wrote my perspective of the situation, as I knew at the time confronting her at the time would have been a mistake. Despite the fact that she thought she was right at the time, I thought that I was, but knew better than to interrupt her sulking.
I don’t know what upset her the most- the reality that I could dare have my own opinion or just the plain fact that I was writing about her. The entry was months old. She prides herself on seeing it from the other side, but she never accepts that other people can also be right. I could have acted better but at the time I did what I thought was right, but that was not enough.
Either way it led to her sending me a malicious email outlining what she thought were my bad points- but not all of them according to her entry yesterday. Apparently there is nothing good about me. I’ve been on the defence with her ever since, feeling the need to justify my actions despite her insistence that she didn’t mean any of what she said. But it altered my behaviour around her considerable, as is to be expected when someone says such nasty things about you.
I will say right now what she never wants to hear- she is horrendously self-centred. Hell, I am not perfect; in fact I have come to the conclusion that I really shouldn’t even leave the house. And though she likes to believe she is infallible in her positions, she is not. Other people have opinions and feelings as well. I just know better than to argue with her because we’ll never agree. I’ll agree this time however- I am a truly horrible person and our friendship is over. I now have no friends. I doubt that I will ever make any more as why would I want to subject anyone to my person or myself to the knowledge that eventually I will be rejected. Why should I go through this process again? Try telling my mother that is why I don’t want to make friends.
The plan? To finish university, get a job and essentially try and make my daughter happy. I don’t care about anything else any more.

I am trying to create a bio page but I cannot decide on a particular lay out, and knowing me, it is something that I will change often. As if you bother reading here you will see the format change when I feel the need- or rather it will imitate my desktop. That is the good thing about not being a part of a set standard diary site is that when I change, the things changes as I like, however the previous entries will not have to change and can reflect my mood of the moment.
That is not what I was going to write about. I am going to discuss my favourite subject- me. Isn't that always the case- otherwise we would not subject the world to yet another online journal.
The basics. My name is Samantha and I am a 23-year-old single mother of a gorgeous 2-year-old daughter. I study a pretty basic university course that I hate and want to transfer into architecture. I received the information the other day yet cannot apply until the middle of July.
Being that this is my first day here I should relieve my very first memory. Unfortunately it is not a pleasant one as it involved me drowning. It was Easter and my family was camping with my aunt. I saw my older brother, Grover, and some other people crossing a large concrete tube in the middle of the river and decided to follow. I knew I shouldn't be, but I was. And I slipped.
Under the water I was calm as could be. At the time I thought it was because I saw blood under there and knew that someone else had died there previously. Now I realize that I was running out of oxygen and was perhaps seeing things, but it felt real at the time.
My father dove straight in and saved me.
Not a very pleasant memory, I am sure, but it is my first one. I guess our first memories should say a little about who we are, but not all that much, because we have grown since then. Later I will let you in on what my supposed 'best friend' really thinks of me.

372 words posted by Samantha at 1856hr.