At Wal-Mart after work yesterday, I happened to see an old friend of mine from high school working the checkout counter next to the one where I was purchasing my goods. I hardly ever venture into Wal-Mart, especially during this time of year, especially during daylight hours, because I inevitably run into someone I don’t want to run into from high school who has 10 children in a shopping cart, and she feels the need to speak to me about how her life has been since high school, and I feel all gross for the rest of the day.
This woman was my BFF for several years. We were brought together by a shared love for a certain band, and though I knew this girl was very obviously anorexic and probably had many other issues, I thought that she was good friend material, all because of a patch (oh the ‘90s!) on her backpack. Through my junior and senior years, we stuck together like glue – I put up with her psychotic family, her fainting spells, her dog-shit-filled house, her aggression, addictions, and abusive houseguests until my boyfriend at the time had sex with her, and she with him.
I remember seeing her again a couple of years later, after I was well into the working world, and her informing me she was happily pregnant at 19 and was going to be married with the thing she was dragging behind her at the time. I haven’t a clue what actually panned out from that, as I was less interested in her proclamation than I was in a piece of gum stuck to the side of a dumpster, and moved on.
Seeing her yesterday just made me feel kind of… well… proud of myself, I guess. It doesn’t seem right to feel better about oneself after seeing the apparent misfortune of others. Then again, it may not be pride I feel, but appreciation. I’m happy that I didn’t end up working as a Wal-Mart cashier at this point in my life. I’m glad that I’m not dealing with psychotic family members and a horrible past echoing my thoughts at every moment. Not to say that is how she feels, I’m just imagining.
All in all, I guess I’m kind of happy for her that she’s at least working – lord knows none of her family provided for her a good example of earning an income. It’s good that she somewhat looks well – still too skinny, and still too sallow, but pretty much the same. Of course, I didn’t talk to her or anything. I avoided her with every pore in my skin.
See also: When I saw my psychotic ex-flatmate, who also happens to work at Wal-Mart! Except for, I can’t find a post about this, which I totally thought I wrote, but I guess I didn’t. Must do so later. However, not now.
PS. In the interest of my sanity, I have installed a new-and-improved system for blocking the thousands of comment spam entries I get a day: now when one comments, one must type in a number which is found in a graphic next to the type-in box. Thank you.
