I’m rather conflicted as I write this, even though I have, what I like to consider, more important things to do than face this issue.

But after some ‘mindfulness’ experiments during tutorial sessions of my class of Reading as a Writer, an old issue came back to haunt me.

I did not choose to read out my issues during the second lesson because I find no need to. The first track threw me off.

It asked for me to accept the difficulties in my life as it is, in preparation for the understanding of the genre ‘chick-lit.’ As it is, one of the difficulties I have is finishing up seven pieces of work before October 8th, but I find that this is a rather silly issue so I did not focus on that.

Rather, when the narrator decided to switch the focus onto past difficulties, I found one.

Of course, at first, I thought about that Australian issue again. Unimportant, even though it practically ruined my life. I mocked the issue as I did once before and when the narrator told me to focus on what the issue makes me feel, I felt a tingling in my fists and knew immediately why I had to go to the Kung Fu lesson that Monday evening.

Then, as I thought about plummeting that god-damned bastard into a bloody pulp, my mind decided to remember something.

I didn’t think of her.

But of course, the moment my mind decides to realize that it didn’t think of her, it immediately thinks of her.

Everything passed by in a flash and I no longer wanted to punch someone. Instead, a sorrow landed on my heart and my best friend’s words — though unrelated to the topic at hand — floated in and fashioned themselves to the issue.

If she isn’t that important to you in the first place, then why the hell do you care?

I don’t know.

I really, really don’t know.

We were friends, once. And that’s enough for me.

It was a mental struggle that weakened me. It hurt me and tore down whatever barriers I had set up. I twitched and wanted to fight it, as I always did when facing problems — to hurt it before it could hurt me, or well, to hurt it because it hurt me.

Just then, a single phrase popped into my mind and everything went dark toward the final moments of the audio track.

Forgive her.

And I did.

I miss her.

And I do.

There are times where I just hoped I responded differently to her. Feigned interest and worry as to why she was feeling depressed. And even though I knew at that moment that I was not in a good mood and would have never been able to, my mind plagues me with all of the ‘what if’s.

It hurts but I cannot do anything about it now.

Moving onto the next track of ‘mindfulness,’ it completely broke me as it told me to extend friendliness and friendship to those around me. Whether it be a family member, a good friend, a stranger, or… an enemy.

I could not focus. I couldn’t even pay any goddamn attention when I remembered once again what I fucking failure I am for having to come here. I miss my mother dearly and it still doesn’t get better. There are so many things that I could have done better but I didn’t.

Because I’m weak. I’m a mess and I hate myself.

I’m a mess and I hate myself.

That’s what I wrote on my page when the teacher told us to write about our experiences. I’m a mess and I hate myself.

I didn’t want to face the truth because when the narrator said ‘someone once close to you’ my mind brought me back to her again. It was always about her. It was never not.

And I hate it.

I hate myself.