I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

Know now that I did not break down the other night because of what I remembered. I lied to you, Becky, so you wouldn’t blame yourself. I cried at myself, for being so cold, so introverted. I could see that you were going to cry, I knew it, but I did nothing. It took someone who knew you half as well to get you to let it go. A person, whom, I’m not sure should have been doing it. A person who says the wrong things, I feel. Or perhaps I only feel that way because it was not me who took action. I cried for you. I hate to see you sad. I cried because I then knew that things would never be the same between Chris & I again. My best friend who has broken trusts before, broke yet another one on the night he violated you. We will still be friends, I know, but something will always be different. I am sorry it happened to you, for you did not deserve it. You were innocent and happy and to see you in pain, the victim of an emotional crime, hurt me more that you will ever know.

I don’t remember this event occurring, but I do know that the violation in question wasn’t anything more than the standard overdramatized outbursts that happen in a breakup. I also know that since I always fall for girls that need rescuing that I am getting emotionally involved with Becky at this point. Nothing ever happened between us, but only because I felt it would be wrong to make moves my best friend’s ex-girlfriend so soon after their break up. Thank God for that.