Don't ask me how I know...

Yesterday, I saw Jessica for the last time before her move. We had a lunch date yesterday, but opted to just eat at my apartment and watch Gattaca instead of heading to an actual restaurant. Our gourmet meal consisted of mimosas, sour cream and onion potato chips and red velvet cake. How fun is that? First of all, Gattaca is a "wow" movie and I think I'll have to buy it. Second of all, I just love Jessica. I love that we eat junk food at 2:00 in the afternoon for "lunch" and discuss everything under the sun. Spending time with her brought me to a revelation. Empathy is nothing. At one point in the afternoon Jess sighed, looked at me and said "I don't want to go home. It isn't even home; its just that place where my stuff is." I can so relate. My heart broke for her. I know that feeling of hopeless unbelonging. I know what its like to look at the walls that surround you and want to retch. But you know what, my knowing does nothing for her. My understanding and hurting for her does not make her hurt any less. It doesn't fill the hollowness. Empathy is possibly the most useless emotion ever. Along the same lines, its like people expecting you to learn from their mistakes. No. I can't and I won't. I have to make my own mistakes. Scratch that, I GET to make my own mistakes. It is the privilege of the human condition that I get my chance to royally screw up and reap all the ecstasy and misery that goes with it. Your pain does me no good because I won't gain anything from that. I can't hurt for you and you can't screw up for me. Just be my friend, not my protector and I'll do the same for you. So with all that running through my head I licked the icing off my fingers and walked Jess to her car. She started it up, sat for a minute and drove off. I hated to see her go, but I watched her drive away. And you know what? For once someone looked back. And there I was to blow a kiss and wave.