There aren’t many things that I regret, but my encounter with T is like a black smudge on my conscience.
I met T in Grade 7, the first year of my high school. She was over-enthusiastic and strikingly weird, but friendly just the same. We were “hello in the hallway” friends, but not much more. She invited me and my then bestfriend (J) to her Neopets guild, and we accepted. She made us “guild councilors,” although I don’t remember why. Maybe it was because she knew us in real life, or maybe because she wanted to bribe us for our friendship. Either way, I always had the distinct feeling that she was trying too hard to become better friends with us.
I enjoyed being on her guild, and it was because of editing the guild’s homepage that I was first introduced to the alien language of HTML. Through trial and error, I became more and more familiar with these strange codes, until I was able to make use of basic HTML tags without having touched a single tutorial (I don’t think looking up tutorials ever occurred to me back then. Remember, this was before Google). She and I became closer through our vested commitment to the guild, and the guild became larger and larger.

Then one day, something happened. T did something that really pissed off J. And as always, I rose to J’s defence, because she didn’t have the courage to make confrontations herself.
I avenged my bestfriend with shocking fierceness, something I was capable of back then. I confronted T in the hallway during a school dance, yelling accusations left, right, and centre. Before I knew it, a crowd had formed around us, and it wouldn’t have been beyond me to punch her at the time. I don’t remember if she was crying or not, but I remember her lack of defence, and I could see in her eyes that my words were destroying her. It was enough. I remember the emptiness I felt as I finished her off and pushed my way out of the crowd. I remember telling myself that it was for my bestfriend, that T deserved it.
As if publicly humiliating her wasn’t enough, J and I decided that there should be some tangible form of punishment – of revenge. So I deleted her guild, because I knew how much it meant to her.
Although J and I didn’t say it at the time, I don’t think either of us felt any sense of satisfaction in what we did.
When T found out, she was so upset she almost made a stand against us, against her nature. But I was the one holding the knife in the fight, and any cut I made would hurt her more than anything she could do to me – at least on the battleground.
For T, what I did to her would make her a social hermit for years. She was an oddity as it was, but at least she’d had enough courage to actively try to make friends. And the two friends she’d made in her first year ended up destroying her.

I wouldn’t blame her if she hated me.

The ironic thing is that I can’t even remember what it was for. I don’t even remember what T did that offended J. I didn’t have anything against her, and the guild actually meant a lot to me too. In fact, if it wasn’t for being on her guild council, I don’t think I’d have ever learned HTML and entered the web-designing scene. But the fierceness with which I protected myself and my friends in elementary school was still prominent, and enacting revenge where it really hurt was one of my specialties.

One day, four years later, I was sitting around in the hallway with a couple other people when T spoke to me. Not only did she acknowledge my presence, but she was perfectly friendly, as if we had no history between us. Of course I was glad to be on speaking terms again, because I’d never really been proud of what I did – whether it was for my bestfriend or not. But I didn’t have the courage to apologize to her because I was too ashamed to even acknowledge how badly I had treated her. I didn’t always like her, but I never particularly disliked her either. I found her to be really strange, and sometimes overly so. But then again, she was so accepting of other people’s oddities, so how could I, who is often strange myself, complain?
I knew she didn’t deserve how I treated her, but before I could redeem myself, she left the school.

Leaving my high school is something that does not happen very often, because it is very hard to get in. Most of the 50 boys and 50 girls that are admitted in grade 7 spend the next six years together. T was one of only six people who left during the six years. Apparently, she had become very suicidal, and seeing a psychologist was not enough. I hate to think that perhaps what I did to her contributed to her mental state, but it’s hard to rule out the possibility. At the very least, I contributed to the social challenges that she faced, and moreover, I gravely wounded her sense of self.

About a month ago, she left a very long comment on a note I’d made on Facebook. Although she started off with a philosophical response to my strong opinions, she couldn’t avoid bringing up our past eventually:

I’ve always felt uneasy with your straightforwardness, because it’s opposite of what I’d do. Truth is not the nicest thing, so says the cliche, but maybe the uneasiness came from that I didn’t know when you were being purposefully (caustically) heavy-handed or if it was just an off-hand observation? Maybe they should tell me more often that: I read too much into things, and don’t like it when I cannot make up my mind.

But bygones is bygones, even if vague impressions remain. If I wasn’t a hypocrite (regarding “Heraclitus”), realising that a person has changed should be like unwrapping a tinsel sweet. At the moment, all that I know is that you’re both similar and different from the past.

After reading her comment, I apologized to her for the first time, and told her how much I appreciated the fact that she gave me a second chance years later, a chance that I did not really grasp as strongly as I could’ve. I know that I never made it up to her, that I will never really deserve her friendship or trust again, but the fact that she is so willing to forgive and forget makes me realize the true contrast between us. It is not that I am strong and she is weak. It is that she actually thinks about how others feel, even if she is being mistreated, whereas I have little empathy for anyone’s feelings except mine. I realized how truly strong-headed (or rather, pig-headed) I am. I always throw myself out there and force others to accept me for who I am, but I never consider how many people I am ostracizing from my life by doing so.

So, T, thank you. Thank you for being so forgiving, so willing to forget, and so embracing. Through your passive and gentle approach, you’ve finally made me see just how self-righteous and self-centered I am. You’ve treated me exactly like I would want to be treated, but I don’t think I ever did the same for you. Although you’d probably like me to, I don’t think I can forgive myself and forget this incident. So, let me be forever apologetic to you. I’m sorry.