I never thought of myself as the type to break rules. I was always the girl in the front left corner of the classroom, the good girl that never did anything wrong. I have always found a sort of comfort in the status quo. It helped me know what I was doing and what was expected of me. Until lately, when I seem to be breaking every rule that I think I can get away with.
I made friends with a runner.
He emailed me around my second post or so, and against my better judgement I wrote him back. There was something kind about him, which is not a trait I find a lot being a tracker. We started exchanging letters more and more often, until we were given an opportunity to meet in real life.
I won't talk about where we met or what happened. It was nice, but it was at a rather well publicized event and I wasn't actually supposed to be there. It was one more rule I was breaking. What happened when I met him isn't even the point, really. The point is that he's dead. Our side killed him.
I think that to a certain point, not being friends with runners is for our own well being. It's difficult enough to know that I'm indirectly killing someone. Knowing that me or people I know have killed a friend is torture. In response to all this, I did something sort of stupid. I went over to Messi's and asked him if I could stay the night.
I hate being as dependent as I am. I can't be alone, no matter how many times people die or are killed or betray me. Yet the minute a friend of mine dies, the first thing I do is go find someone. I felt terrible about it, and about bothering him and about overall needing him that much. I still don't want to leave this apartment because the world seems just so big and empty and terrifying. I can't be alone right now.
At least Messi seems like a pretty nice guy.