One of the things I have trouble with is that when I'm sad or alone I miss my "best friend". No matter that she hurt me, I miss her. I think often of her and wonder what her life is like. And the little I know actually is enough for me to know I shouldn't think about it because it makes me sad. She has so much that I wanted: husband, children, normalcy. Yet looking her up isn't something I deny myself because it's a worse shock when I find out from the alumni magazine.
Today though was extra sad. It just makes that "she gets everything" thing feel more real. Years ago I was a runner. I was good at it, and I was young, and it looked like I was going to get to be high on my team. I had spent the winter running further and further and planned to run my first half-marathon in the fall, gradually working up. The timing was ideal as I'd be at peak performance during cross country, when endurance overcame speed (unlike the distance track races). And then on Feb. 14 I fell and ruined my knee. So today it appears my "friend" just ran a half-marathon.
Stupid jealousy? Yep. But I just want something easy. Just once.
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