February 10, 2002

Regaining Perspective

I always hesitate to tell people that I have Internet friends, because I know they'll usually give me a blank look, followed by a puzzled look, followed by a look that plainly says, "What is WRONG with you?" But it's true; I do have Internet friends, and I do consider some of them to be just as close as my friends in 'real life.' I've met some of them in person - some more than once - and I've spoken with them on the phone. We've exchanged letters and packages, and we've given one another enough details so that we trust one another.

But every once in a while, that trust is broken and trampled on. It happened to me this week, and it made me realize that nobody is immune to hurt, not even those of us who are in a close-knit circle of online friends.

Years from now, I think I'll look back on the week in which I turned 23 as one of the more stressful times in my life. It was the second week of the semester, I was still trying to add classes so that I could graduate in time, and we were still readjusting to a hectic work schedule with changes and new people. Tuesday, the actual day of my birthday, was filled with stress from 8 a.m. to 7:30 p.m., at which point I finally went home to fight off a headache that was bad enough that even the stoplights were hurting my eyes.

Wednesday seemed to be fairly calm. Work conflicts had died down, and I was pursuing a news story tip - something I always enjoy doing. I was in the midst of following up on the story when I received a phone call that was only the beginning of what was to come. Sitting there in my office, my mind began to spin as I learned that an Internet friend of mine who had died in a car accident last August was really not dead.

For a brief moment, I was thrilled to hear that he was alive. His death had been a harsh jolt for me. We had connected because we supposedly had similar things happen to us that just don't happen to everyone. He had suddenly disappeared, and I was left only with a few e-mails from his "mother" and a "friend" of his, both of whom seemed genuine and sincere. And now, five months later, he was apparently back.

But my moment of happiness at his return was only a brief moment. Things didn't line up and facts didn't match. At first, he seemed to understand that we needed a little proof; after all, we had been told that he was dead, and now we were being told the opposite. He couldn't give us the answers, though, and by Thursday afternoon I was forced to accept the fact that my optimistic hopes were not to be realized. I had been betrayed.

I sat there in my office, tears welling up in my eyes, and a few of those tears even escaped - a thing that very rarely happens to me. However, life was still moving along at lightning speed, and I had to attend to work and school matters. I got back from class Thursday evening and got a call about a breaking news story. Running across campus, cell phone and reporter notebook in hand, felt rather good, and it was nice to be able to immerse myself in something else for a while.

The stress, however, did not fade, and the next day I was hurt by someone in real life. It wasn't on the same scale as the betrayal by my Internet friend, but it was a bit too much for one week. I nearly hit bottom, but at least one true friend insisted on being there for me, even when I tried to convince both her and myself that I didn't need anybody.

I woke up Saturday morning, read the paper, and sat down to reply to a couple of e-mails. I was partway through one of them when I realized that something had happened. In the midst of everything, I was starting to regain some perspective. Yes, I had been betrayed and hurt in a way I'll never forget, but my tunnel vision began to subside. I wrote in one e-mail to the other person who was most hurt by this individual:

"You see, while his actions did hurt me a lot, there is a part of me that still wants to know more about him, although I'll have to accept that I'll never know. I'm naturally an extremely curious person, and I'm also a big watcher of people. What made him do it? What is he REALLY like? Was any of it at all true? But I suppose this is one instance where I will probably never be satisfied..."

I paused after writing those words, and I realized that I had gotten past the worst of it. Rather than focusing on myself and on those who had been hurt, I was beginning to wonder about him. I have always loved to watch, observe, and interact with people, to attempt to see what makes them tick. And this hard-hearted individual is no exception. He is another person for me to wonder about. What made him do the things he did? What made him come back at the time that he did? Did he really make everything up, or were parts of him real? The things we talked about; were they all artificial, or was there an element of truth to them? I look back, and I can't help but think that some of those things had to have been based on something real. But at some point in his life, someone must have done something to him. Something must have motivated him to use and hurt us. Despite everything, I want to know what caused it. I'm the type of person who sees the good in people. I was recently defending someone (in real life) because I saw the other side to something he had done, even when nobody else did. That happens to me on a regular basis, and I generally look back on it and am glad that I did see the good in that someone. There is a part of me that still wants to see the good in this person, although I know that I'll never have that chance.

That thinking led me to write this in another e-mail regarding the situation:

"I suddenly realized that, though most people don't understand this sort of thing, one day they will. The Internet is not going away, and it is very rapidly becoming a big part of everyday life. I can mention "Google" as a place to find a bit of information, and people know what it is. And they don't think it's weird, either. This means that people WILL understand this. That one thought of mine that has always prevented me from truly hitting rock bottom has come through yet again: maybe one day I'll be able to help someone else going through a similar situation."

And that will be the good part of the person who so carelessly betrayed me.