A Friendship Burns

Today I write about how a friend of mine virtually murdered me. Perhaps that is too strong a phrase, though I am now, thanks to the technology of Second Life, assuredly dead to her. How exactly our friendship came to this, I cannot say. Though she once praised me for my intelligence, her twists and turns as my friend confounded me. Her final twist into ex-friend confounds me more. Now I cannot say when she was, and when she was not, my friend. I recall the day she became my friend (it is described in my very first ever blog entry), and I thanked her the day I was collared, but I cannot say on which day she became ex-friend to me, for it was not a mutual decision.

I learned recently that she deleted my friendship card, which irrevocably puts us out of touch with one another. Isolated in a sea of sims, if she is more than 10 meters from me, she is now invisible to me, and I her. To one friend, she said that I had hurt her and that she deleted me in a fit of anger, an act which she now regrets. To another, she said she was merely clearing out her inventory. Which to believe? I'm not sure which is worse, actually. Am I such a bitch that she can no longer bear me even as an acquaintance? Or am I so inconsequential to her that I am relegated to inventory rubbish?

In my heart, I feel that I should be neither of these. For if I hurt her, it was surely accidental, part of a constellation of conflicting signals of which I was but one participant. And if I represent folder clutter, then it is in spite of showing her my vulnerability, my deepest fears, and (yes!) my most forbidden desires. Let me declare then before all, that I am hurt. And I remain confounded, for there is no resolution to our tale; it just ends. Here.