The Genesis of My Lies

I was lying.

The lies I told Rossi-san were what I thought were the truth:
I didn't want to establish connections with anyone.
I didn't want to create burdens.
I didn't want to make friends.

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In the fall semester of my second-year of middle school, my teacher instructed my class to make groups of five for a project that would last a semester. I didn't search for a group, so the teacher assigned me to one that only had four members; two girls, two boys. I knew this group were really close friends, so I secluded myself and only did the work I had to do.

I was on a boat flowing through life's currents, and I had never fallen from it.

Unfortunately, my work required me to talk with one of the girls – Jino. It was tedious work, so I wanted to be done with it quickly, but apparently Jino had started liking me. I didn't know that at the time, unfortunately.

Her friend played wingwoman and started inviting me to the group's lunches and after school hangouts in order to get her friend and me more time together, using the project as an excuse. For the sake of the project, I accepted, but that was a mistake. One of many.

One of the boys disliked the fact that an outsider was intruding; I didn't blame him. He started teasing me in a way he claimed was friendly, but I saw him becoming bitter. He took every opportunity to do so, and the opportunities increased day-by-day.

After the project was finished, I thought I'd be done with the group, spending the winter break alone like always. But when I returned to school, Jino gave me a confectionery present, and invited me to join her friends for karaoke. There, she asked me if I wanted to continue being with them. I accepted, because admittedly, I started to think of them as friends.

For the final semester of my second-year, I had friends. We did everything together, from greeting each other in the morning to saying farewell in the evening, just for us to continue chatting through messages all night.

I was on a boat flowing through life's currents with friends, and I had never fallen from it. That was until a leak had sprouted from the bottom.

The teasing from the boy expanded to the point where his male friend had joined too. The girls played along at first, but they believed it was getting too far, and Jino suggested the boys to stop, but they didn't. I didn't mind, really, but it must've been burdensome for her childhood friend to bully her crush.

I didn't know I was her crush until the start of our third-year. Just before summer break, Jino confessed her feelings to me in hopes of us spending time together during the break. Her legs were trembling as she tried to stand confidently, and her fingers twiddling over her chest as quickly as her heart must've palpitated. She blushed from forehead to chin, and the way her eyes sparkled as she conveyed her heart into my path was imprinted into my mind.

Yet, despite understanding her feelings, I couldn't reciprocate them. I believed there was a small part of me that liked her back, but that wasn't enough to trump another emotion I had: Fear. I feared what would happen if we became a couple and I let her down, but more prominently, I feared a person.

The boy had been teasing me for one reason, he liked Jino. It was obvious from the start, and he probably liked her more than I did. He was a better match for her, and almost the entire world could agree – me included. I feared the ruins within the group if he took his teasing too far because of me, so I rejected Jino's feelings and kept mine to myself.

She accepted my rejection with a tender smile of gratitude, it warmed me more than the first smile she gave me. It placed a great weight on my heart, as if anvils had slammed down onto me. I couldn't meet her eyes, because I knew I created another burden for her and didn't want to see her suffering because of me.

If anything, I was saving myself from the feeling of guilt.

Afterwards, the boy confronted me about the rejection. He told me how the girl was crying and hurting, because of me. He figured I liked her, and was infuriated that I didn't tell her how I felt. He told me,
"You'll pay for hurting her. I swear it."
His animosity was a force to be reckoned with, that's what I learned.

Being friends after a failed confession was possible, but not for us. It wasn't because one of us couldn't handle seeing the other anymore, but because a third-party did what I had feared and brought ruin to the group.

The boy and his friend pulled a "prank" on me for the entire school to witness, including the girls. Discord sprouted between the four childhood friends, and I was the center of it. Words such as "hate" and "fault" were thrown at each other, and me. Over a decade worth of laughter and bonding was untwining before me.

In my soaked school uniform, behind the curtain of tears, my eyes saw our boat sinking. I saw the burdens created by connecting with them. I placed too much weight on the boat, and caused a leak to sprout. In order to save the boat, I needed to take all the burdens over my shoulders, and jump off.

The blame was divided amongst us, but there was only one person at fault. I told them the boys were right to attack me; I ruined everything they had going for them. I said it'd be better if they didn't talk to me anymore, and to forget about me. Jino tried to reassure me, and I was close to listening to her, but then I heard another voice call to me.

*Don't do anything else. Sever your connections with them, and leave. The boat can be repaired if you leave, but it'll never be the same. The four will never be friends again, because of you, but they can move on through the current. Us however, we're stuck.*

I spent the summer alone, only accompanied by Swani. I discovered Karuta and its poems, and found peace with just those two things. For the rest of middle school, I isolated myself from everyone else to ensure I didn't make the same mistake again. I realized how much of a pain having friends was; it led to the creation of burdens.

Swani constantly reminded me to not burden people, so I skipped ceremonies, festivals, and carried the work for group projects in order to not talk with anyone. I didn't want or give help, because it caused connections. I didn't care for others, or wanted them to care for me. If I could help someone, I'd let them deal with it themselves.

When graduation came, I met Jino for the final time in middle school. We were destined for different high schools, despite having agreed to apply to the same one when we were friends. She was forever broken by the outcome of our friendship, but I could tell she was already doing better than me.

Only one of us said goodbye, while the other couldn't remove his regretful eyes from the ground.

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I convinced myself I didn't need anyone, but that was stupid. It wasn't that I didn't want friends, but I was just too weak to handle the pain that came if friendships potentially changed for the worse. I was afraid of burdens, not knowing I was still creating them.

From the start, my reasoning for seclusion at the bottom of the river was flawed, but a voice had convinced me it was sound. I only realized it wasn't when I met her and her pain.

Rossi Yuri. A foreign family name – like mine – and with the way her lilt changed when she got excited, she could be of Italian descent. Why did I care about such a thing? Because the girl on the other side of the hedge was special in an interesting way.

I had made a connection with her even before I knew what she looked like, which crumbled my belief that I needed to know name and appearance for a connection to be established.

I lied to myself, believing I wasn't drawn to her when I really was in my mind. I lied to Swani, thinking I was following his warnings when I ignored them more and more and anticipated meeting the girl. I lied to her, saying I didn't want to be friends with her, but the more I heard her struggles and deciphered her suggestions, the more I wanted to help and reach out.

What should I do now?