Mistakes (and learning from them)

I met Ruby during my sophomore year of high school. I immediately liked her; she was shy, awkward and creative, (like me in a lot of ways) and I was immediately drawn to her, thinking we could help each other through our shyness.

However, if there's one thing I've learned from being young, it's that girls can be especially cruel to one another. Two sisters from my school (my own mother liked to jokingly refer to them as Anastasia and Drizella) were particularly mean to Ruby, poking fun at her behind her back because of her weight and her looks, bursting into fits of tiny giggles whenever she spoke up outside of class. I felt awful for Ruby, and I made a point to sit next to her in class and talk with her whenever I had a chance.

I could tell that Ruby knew these girls spoke behind her back, but when she asked me, I denied it. After all, those same two girls often spoke behind my back as well (years later, I would become close friends with one; she apologized). I'd learned the only way to be happy was to focus on the kind things people said. So I told Ruby that she was sweet and wonderful. I asked her how could anyone speak poorly of her. In my mind, trying to outdo this lie by being her friend was the one thing that would help Ruby look back on high school as being a good experience in her life.

It was only a few months before Ruby moved away, and we rarely spoke after that, but she had new friends, and she seemed happy on the occasions when I saw her.

It's been seven years since I last spoke to Ruby. A few days ago, she looked me up on a social networking site. I was excited to hear from her, and eager to find out how things had been for her in the past seven years. But it turns out that Ruby wasn't interested in seeing how I was doing. Ruby was only interested in venting her anger, reminding me that the other girls and I had been mean to her in high school, and had spoken behind her back. I was heartbroken. Ruby had held onto those memories for seven years, and worst of all, she'd forgotten my role in her life. She had lumped me in with all of the other girls. It was incredibly disheartening, not only because the things people had said had stuck with her for so long, but also because I realized that I had failed to make any sort of difference in her life at all.

I'd always thought that kindness was one of the most important gifts you could give, but it didn't help Ruby. I began to understand that, rather than directly facing the root cause of the matter, I'd been trying to plaster over her pain with lies of kindness. In the end, my kindness had turned to poison. Ruby couldn't believe my words and actions were genuine, because I had refused to acknowledge what was going on around her. I'm ashamed for not realizing that before now.