Her name was Jessica

Her name was Jessica. She is still alive, but I am no longer a part of her life. It was brief, but I liked her. We were supposed to be friends, but it was one-sided. I opened Pandora’s box by offering to help her.

I did not ask for anything in return for the four months I helped her. I know she was grateful for them, but she became entitled, arrogant, and worse. Heaven forbid, one day I was the real me, telling her the blunt truth.

I worded it decently, but she exploded. I have been around all sorts, including many sociopaths and worse, but I have never had one brief criticism explode in the eye. It clearly struck a nerve, and she knew I was right or that she had heard it before. Likely both.

From experience, when someone hears something they do not like and is defensive and combative, let alone livid, before they block you or vanish, they are highly narcissistic. It screams it, but I know she’s not one, or did my BS detector become blinded by the fact I liked her?

Having dated narcissists, she may act like one at times; she comes off spoiled, cold, and sadly puts the blonde stereotype at the forefront of things, but I always said she was going through something to justify helping her, and she was a mess when I selflessly helped her.

Besides, I figured we were friends, which was the plan, but that box I opened by helping her spoiled everything. I am not taking the blame, but I do feel it ruined what normal there may have possibly been; however, perhaps the Jessica I saw was the real Jessica.

I do not believe that, but many who knew her back warned me about her or commented later that her true colors still remain.

Towards the end of the friendship, she was her likely true self when she could not control every conversation.

I became highly compulsive and impulsive at times and lost it. Mind you, this was all through texts, which is the lamest form of communication all women do anymore, and it is counterproductive. We both said we didn’t mesh, but we did early on. I just wanted a friend, and she wanted her quick fix.

So I ask you, Jessica, where would you be without me for those four months? Sure, I have many issues too, but I helped you when I didn’t need it, and guess what? I would do it again, albeit a tad differently. Here I am thinking of you, and I keep thinking why.

You destroyed me because you could with words because you got butt hurt over two. Of course, I am likely the one who feels anything here, but what did I lose? I hope one day you can tell me, as if I do not already know. Still, I love being wrong.