Waiting...

So it's been 3 days since I sent my email.  I am not sure how long I should wait, hoping for some sort of response.  I know that she doesn't always have time to get on the computer because her kids are frequently on it, and that often her computer(s) are not functional.  Hard part is there is just no way for me to know.  As the days pass though, I obviously begin to feel that there is little hope for some sort of response.  I have to accept that our longtime friendship is truly over and I am dumbfounded that it actually could be.  It makes me contemplate the entirety of our friendship; was any of it real?  Was I the only one who was truly invested in it?  The only real friend in the relationship?  Were we just lucky to not have faced any major trials in 35 years?  If we had, would our relationship have crumbled long before?

She doesn't even know what actually happened.  If she doesn't answer, she never will and that is a shame.

I wish I could remember more than snippets of those last two days she was around.  I only remember the moments I was somewhat lucid, and just before the waves of delusion were about to crash over me.  I do have some memories of the moments I was panicked and needed to run away, but there is also some dissociation from my own mind involved with that; if that makes any sort of sense.  It's like I was not actually part of my mind, but sitting in the recesses of it and being controlled by some other thing.  I have little recollection of my interaction with her.  Well, anyone really.  I was so overcome by my fear of being killed that I was focused on acting normal so that I could make a run for it at my first opportunity.  In my more "rational" moments, I was focused on not being sent to the hospital.  At that point, I was aware that I was having a problem, but didn't want anyone to send me away.  How was I coming across?  Did I really seem that far out of my head and that's why me running to the neighbors was the breaking point for her?  I do remember that most of that day I had stayed in my room.  I had come out once but didn't say anything to her.  That's what I remember anyway.  The day before was scary, yes, but she had no knowledge that she had morphed into one of the conspirators to my murder that second day, did she?  She couldn't.  I hadn't even told my husband.  In fact, the only one who know that I was afraid that someone was trying to kill me was her.  She knew that I was afraid of my husband.  The only ugly thing I said to her was when she tried to talk to me was when I was on the phone with 911.  I told her to get the f*ck away from me.  That is when she left.  I can't believe that would be enough for her to never want to speak to me again.  Unless I said something else that I don't remember.  I suppose that is possible.  I remember thinking her surprised look seemed one of feigned innocence, but I think I just repeated what I had said.  Maybe I said something worse.  I just don't know.

It's ironic; the people that have real cause to turn their backs on me are the ones who are here standing by me, loving me and supporting me through all this.  People like my mom and my best friend, people I haven't really done anything to hurt, have turned their backs on me.  It leaves me feeling incredulous and hurt; yet humbled, grateful and so very fortunate at the same time.  Ultimately, because of the people who truly love me, I'll get beyond those who really don't.  Even for what I have lost, I have real people of infinite value in my life; people I cannot and would not want to live without.  That's really what matters.

I guess I'll give it just a day or two more.  After that, it doesn't really matter anymore.  I gave it a shot.