I am the worst, just the worst.
This has been haunting me for the past couple of days, and every day it grows even more and more vivid than before. I know I need help, but I have no one around to ask for help. My last resort was our university’s confessions group. UST Confessions is a tiny closed group and all its members are university students. You submit a confession anonymously through a form and it’s posted in the group in 24 hours or so. I hoped the people in my university would be like-minded. I hoped they would understand my problem. I hoped they would understand me.
I submitted my confession yesterday, so when I received the first notification that there are new confessions being posted, I kept on refreshing the group waiting for mine. Eventually, and after ten minutes of continuous refreshing, mine appeared:
“#5707
Hi. I am a girl in foundation year who lives near campus and I need some advice.
Yesterday, I had a huge fight with my flatmate. It was a small issue but it turned into a fight. We used to fight from time to time before but eventually, everything would go back to normal. This time, however, the fight went out of hand. We were so loud that one of our friends who lives in the same building heard us and came to see what was going on. I don’t want to mention her name so I am just going to refer to her as the girl with the hairband. So, the girl with the hairband came along and I explained what was going on to her. I really didn’t mind her getting between us. I liked her. I knew she would help us sort this out. But, she wholeheartedly took my flatmate’s side and blamed me for the whole fight. At that point, I burst into tears, rushed into my room and shut the door. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. That’s the last thing I remember of that night.
The real problem started this morning when I woke up to find that my flatmate has disappeared. I thought she went early to university or something, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I called the girl with the hairband, but she didn’t respond. Then, I saw her by chance in the Services Building. When I approached her to ask about my flatmate, she refused to even look at me. I did not really care about her opinion of our fight right now. I just wanted to find my flatmate. But rather than helping, she kept on blaming me for my flatmate disappearing. She accused me of pushing her away until she couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t know if I should have felt sad or angry at that moment so I just left.
I am posting this confession to ask: if you were in my situation, what would you do? I am starting to think maybe I am actually a bad person. Maybe I actually drove my flatmate away. I am so worried about her. I love her despite all of our fights. I don’t have the contact information of any of her family to check if she is okay. I tried calling all of our mutual friends but none of them are responding to me. I think the girl with the hairband told them about our fight and now they think it’s all my fault as well! I am afraid everyone I know here now hate me for this. I only wish my flatmate would come back so I can apologize for the shitty person I am. I guess it’s too late now…”
It’s interesting how reading your own words can touch your own heart and bring tears to your own eyes. I need to calm down. It’s been a long school day and I want to rest anyway. I decided to put my laptop to sleep, and put myself to sleep. Hopefully, when I wake up, there would be a helpful comment or two on my confession.
I wake up an hour later. I can’t get myself to sleep more than a couple of hours these days. I immediately hop onto my laptop to check my confession. I refresh the group and search for my confession again. Ah yes, there it is. It has three comments!
As I read through the comments, one particular comment caught my attention. It came from a guy called Moemen Khaled. I think he is a second- or third-year student. The comment went:
“I don’t usually comment on the content I see here but I think I can help. First off, it’s definitely a good thing you’re feeling sorry for your mistakes, but don’t let that sorrow turn into a mindset. Don’t let it flood you with negative intrusive thoughts. Your intrusive thoughts are lying to you. Everyone doesn’t secretly hate you. The people in your life want to be there. They became a part of it for a reason. Second, I personally don’t think you are a bad person. Anyone who thinks he or she might be a bad person is definitely not bad, by definition. I believe being good or bad is about how you react when you realize you have made a mistake, not the fact that you made the mistake in the first place. You have to come in terms with the things you have done that might have caused the fight. You have to accept the fact that you did them and now you regret them. You also have to face the people who were involved. Yes, you should definitely apologize to them but you should also face them with your resolution. You are not a bad person for mistakes you’ve grown from. Finally, making mistakes doesn’t give others a free pass to gaslight you. Gaslighting is a mistake in itself. Don’t let anyone treat you that way for whatever reason. Others have to face the consequences of their mistakes as well.
I don’t know the exact details of your problem but I hope you keep these points in mind when you try to find your way out.”
I kept on reading this comment over and over until I memorized it. Very interesting perspective! Also, wise and handsome and funny and smart. One particular sentence was stuck in my head at that moment:
>> “I personally don’t think you are a bad person.”
Really? After all what I have said and done, is there still hope that I am not a bad person?
>> “Anyone who thinks he or she might be a bad person is definitely not bad, by definition.”
I see. That makes sense. I have been doubting myself for the past two days. Having this woke conscience is what stands between me and being bad. But, what should I do now?
>> “You have to come in terms with the things you have done that might have caused the fight. You have to accept the fact that you did them and now you regret them.”
That’s all I have been doing!
>> “You also have to face the people who were involved.”
Yes. That’s what I am going to do. It’s no good staying in my room to cry all night. I am not the bad person in this story.
I put on my hoodie and grab my keys. As I approach the door of our apartment, I pass by my flatmate’s room and take a look. It’s pointless, though. I know her room inch by inch. Maybe I wished that one time I’d look and she’d be there smiling at me.
I continue my journey to the door and close it gently so it doesn’t wake someone up, in case anyone goes to sleep at 7:30 PM. I have always been this cautious. I don’t know how I went so far as to push my flatmate to run away.
>> “…being good or bad is about how you react when you realize you have made a mistake, not the fact that you made the mistake in the first place.”
Yes, sorry. I shouldn’t let one mistake hold me down. I am going to fix this.
I take the stairs up till I reach the third floor. I stand facing the door of the first apartment on the right and ring the doorbell.
To be honest, I didn’t expect anyone would open the door, especially when I heard some footsteps approaching, and then going away.
Well, I have nothing to lose. I ring the doorbell again. Now, I hear people talking inside. A few seconds later, the voices go quiet and footsteps approach the door again. This time, the door opens.
It’s the girl with the nose piercing, the flatmate of the girl with the hairband. I don’t really know what I was going to say, so I just blurt my usual, “Hiii!”. She looks at me in silence at first, then, not wanting to appear impolite, blurts her usual “Hi, cutie!” back.
“Is [the girl with the hairband] here?”, I ask hesitantly.
The girl with the nose piercing looks at me in silence again.
“It’s urgent. Please.”, I plead.
Her face shifts into a look of concern.
“Sure…”, she unsurely replies.
She goes inside and I am left again to my thoughts. What am I going to say to the girl with the hairband? She hates me at this point.
>> “Your intrusive thoughts are lying to you. Everyone doesn’t secretly hate you.”
Ok. She doesn’t hate me. What should I say to her then?
>> “…you should definitely apologize to them…”
That’s right. Even though I know our fight was not 100% my mistake, I should apologize for the trouble we caused her.
The hairband finally appears and stands band-to-face in front of me.
“What do you want?”, says the mouth under the hairband in contempt.
“I am sorry…”, I reply.
“For what?”
“For all this hassle and dragging you into it. I know I made some mistakes, but my only wish right now is that you would forgive and that we would search for my flatmate together.”
I almost cry after saying these words, but I have to stay strong.
“Oh, don’t act all innocent! I heard you! I fucking heard you arguing with her even after I left!”, she started shouting, “You are trying to make it look like she’s the one who overreacted! But, the fact is you’re fucking unbearable!” Her voice echoed through the whole building.
I don’t know what to say. Yes, maybe we argued again after she left, but does that make me a bad person?
>> “You are not a bad person for mistakes you’ve grown from.”
“I am not a bad person for mistakes I’ve grown from.”, I reply strictly.
She laughs.
“Mistakes you’ve grown from?”, she snorts, “Do you think this is Twitter or something? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean…”, I try to explain.
“No, you listen to me. I am done with your bullshit!”, she interrupted, “You think you’ve ‘grown from’ your mistakes in two days? You’re wrong. You’re still the same manipulative unbearable bitch I’ve known since I came to this goddamn place! You’re a hopeless case! Now, do you want anything else?”
I can’t take it anymore. She doesn’t even seem to listen to what I am saying.
>> “…making mistakes doesn’t give others a free pass to gaslight you.”
Agreed. She is being all toxic on me. She is the one who is a hopeless case.
“No, thank you.”, I reply coldly, as I take the stairs down again into my apartment.
What am I supposed to do now, Moemen? I tried facing the people who were involved as you said, and she gaslighted me again. Is there anyone else I should face?
Oh, wait. Maybe, there is.
Yes, that’s right. My flatmate!
I have to find my flatmate and face her with my resolution! I think I can now handle this confrontation.
Now, I can finally admit that the real barrier between me and finding my flatmate was not the fact that I don’t know where she disappeared. Rather, it was the fear that I wouldn’t be able to confront her after all I’ve done. But now, I am ready and I know exactly where to find her!
I rush into my apartment, closing the door as hardly as I could. I don’t care about whoever is sleeping at 7:45 PM. Get a life!
I walk confidently into her room until I am door-to-face with her wardrobe. It is a large cyan wardrobe, almost reaching the ceiling, with cute little violet butterflies. However cute they were, the butterflies did not anticipate what was about to happen to them. I fetch the key of the wardrobe from my pocket and flunk its door wide open.
The cyan wardrobe and the violet butterflies on the bottom of the wardrobe were now matching colors. Both got stained by the red juices that oozed out of the bundle which fell from the wardrobe onto the floor.
The bundle has the face of my flatmate and the body of my flatmate. Two slight differences are noticeable, however. The first is that the bundle is fully covered in blood. The second is that the face of the bundle is smashed. In fact, it’s hard to draw the border between the bundle’s face and the bundle’s body. Next to the bundle lays the transformation tool that transformed my flatmate into the bundle: a hammer.
>> “…you should definitely apologize to them…”
I look straight at the area of the bundle where the face of my flatmate used to be. I am now ready for the confrontation.
“I am sorry…”, I whisper to my flatmate, “I didn’t mean for any of this to turn out the way it did. I didn’t mean to get on your nerves. I didn’t want any of these fights.”
>> “…but you should also face them with your resolution.”
“But, I don’t think our last fight was my fault.”, I start raising my voice, “You acted like I was being a drama queen. You made it look like I was overreacting. You gaslighted me! Gaslighting is a mistake in itself! Now, look at us. Look at this mess. You caused this! You made me do this! You gaslighted me, turned our friends against me and ruined my life here! You deserve this. Yes, you do. That’s what you get for drinking my coffee shake!”
I was practically shouting now that I couldn’t hear the ringing of our doorbell. Who could this be? The doorbell rang again. Should I just let it ring?
No. I am not the bad person here and I will not act like one. I shouldn’t let it turn into a mindset.
I close the door of my flatmate’s room and take steady steps to the apartment door. I open it slightly to take a look at the ringer, and it’s the girl with the hairband.
“What do you want?”, says my mouth in contempt.
“I am sorry…”, she replies.
“For what?”
“For what I just did. It wasn’t nice of me to say all of these things about you.”, she starts pleading, “I just saw your confession, and it sounded so real. Maybe you really have grown from your mistakes. Maybe you have become a better person. I shouldn’t be the one to judge you.”
I looked at her in silence.
“Let’s look for her together. I have her mom’s number.”, she continues, “Perhaps, she just went home. I can call her mom right now.”
She puts her hand in her pocket to fetch her phone, then suddenly stops. She is now staring at the left sleeve of my hoodie… which is covered in blood, my flatmate’s blood.
She looks up to my face in horror.
“Are you okay? What is that on your sleeve? Is someone injured in there?”, she starts her stream of questions.
What should I do now? I can’t let her know what I did. She wouldn’t get it. Actually, she is one of the main reasons I did it.
>> “Others have to face the consequences of their mistakes as well.”
Yes, they definitely have to.
I grasp the hand of the girl with the hairband firmly and pull her inside. She starts to notice what is going on. She starts to scream. She throws herself to the floor. I pull her hair, and thus her body, closer and closer to my flatmate’s room. Her hairband falls. She is now just the girl. I open the door of my flatmate’s room and pull her inside. The girl has been screaming through all this, but once she sees the bundle that once was my flatmate, she goes silent. She stops resisting and her eyes close. Well, not for long. I reach for the hammer and create another bundle.
I have reached my resolution. It’s time to credit those who helped me reach it.
I stride merrily back to my room, take off my hoodie and get in contact with my laptop screen-to-face. The confessions box of the confessions form started filling with my words:
“To #5707
I just want to thank everyone who commented on my previous confession, especially Moemen. Good news is I found my flatmate! I can’t mention any details to not cause her or our friends any embarrassment, but I wouldn’t have found her without your advice and reassurance. Thank you so much!”
