Her hair was once very long, but now it isn’t.
Helen found me. She always said that she knew me from Summer Orientation, though I’ve never been able to recall her. It wasn’t until about a year later that she culled my e-mail address from the roll sheet in an Honors Political Science class and began contacting me. We talked a lot through Messenger programs, but almost never actually saw each other.
I can probably count on my hands the number of times we’ve been around one another, though for a few months at least we were up until 2am every night having completely stream-of-conscious text-based conversations. She even took note of a lot of my more delirious ramblings and collected them on a quotes page on her website.
The first time I visited her apartment she stabbed me in the back every time I turned around. She also became upset with me for perfectly straightening every twist tie I found in the room. It’s a bad habit of mine. We made a midnight trip to Hermann Park and were kicked out by a policeman that told us the unfenced, open-air park was “closed.” Laws confuse me.
She was a psychology major, worked at a bookstore for the longest time, and read a lot. Her mind was always on a dozen million things, causing her to only say very random things. Occasionally she had moments of clarity, but they were always fleeting. She got into grad school and wrote a letter to all her friends saying she didn’t have time for friends anymore. I only hear from her rarely, and she’s usually quite burdened.