Friday, November 14, 2008

I miss Marisa

   I miss my friend Marisa.

   I grew up with her. She was one of the only good things I knew in high school. She was honest and warm, and the most emotionally naked person I may ever meet.

   I don't know how she convinced herself that no one liked her. I told her she was one of the best friends I had ever had, and I asked her what I could do to help her. She said she wanted me to believe in Jesus. I wanted to help her get a good job, help her pay her bills, hang out with her and drink coffee.

   She was in a funk that she never broke out of. I felt so helpless. Like watching a train wreck. Like watching someone dive off the top of a very tall building. Like I was running with my arms out but I ran too far or I tripped and fell on the way there. It hurt my brain. I remember sitting in my car after I saw her for the last time. My head hurt and hissed like the static on TV. There were no clear channels.

   Marisa told me I was "mothering" her and she didn't like it. But I didn't know what else to do. She was making bad choices. She wasn't taking care of herself. I was worried about her.

   She said she was leaving town and she wasn't coming back. I asked her if I could come visit her, and she shook her head yes. But she never called me. I called her and left messages. I asked for her address. But she never called me.

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