Thing is, there are two particular issues at play with whether I'm willing to shell out $70 to go see some people that haven't bothered to talk to me in ten years.
- There are some people I'd really like to see again, maybe catch up with, and maybe say, "Hey, look: I don't mind that you stopped talking to me the day we graduated."
- There is someone in particular that I have no desire to ever see again.
For the most part, much of my high school life was left behind as soon as I went to a college that no one else in my (really freakin' huge) class of 787 other students went to. Sure, I visited, and I occasionally hung out with friends from high school still, but for the most part, I went a very separate way from most of them.
Every now and again, I'll hear back from them, or I'll get information via word-of-mouth. And for the most part, I'm fine with that: I don't ask after folks because I don't feel it's an important thing to do, socially.
But part of me wants to see a few of these people in person.
The other part of me, though, doesn't want to see this other, single individual again. Ever. I imagine that part of it is fear, part of it is general pain, and part of it is just bitterness. But I have thought about it, examined myself and my feelings, and come to the conclusion that this isn't something I'm ready to deal with.
I suppose there are options: I could ignore this person if they tried to speak to me, I could politely tell them to "fuck off", or I could just shout obscenities at them until they leave me alone. But as hurt and fearful as I am of this person, I also don't really want to hurt this person back in any way. I simply wish that this person and I never share the same general locative and temporal space again.
The odd thing is, this is the only person I would ever have this sort of problem with. Finding the root of it is hard, because it's an experience so unlike anything else I have ever known: it does not make sense to me that I should feel like this. Heck, there was a kid named Chad in my Latin class at DCHS who I couldn't stand, who poked fun at me, who knew how to push my buttons. . . And I wouldn't mind seeing him again. Heck, the kid who tried to beat me up in sixth grade, Jeremy, would be someone I could deal with on a personal level now. But this person is different. Very different.
And I suspect that this single individual will keep me away from those old high school friends for the rest of my life.
And in the end, I'm so not fine with that person that I'm fine with missing every reunion until I die.
Talk about weird.