REQUIEM FOR A FRIEND

By Debbie Bulloch



My mom’s recent surgery made me face the prospect of potentially losing my one remaining living parent. The realization that I could lose my last remaining living parent, forced me to embark on a journey of self-discovery. The initial steps were not easy ones, especially when those first steps took me back in time to a part of my life I would have preferred to remain buried and out of mind. The journey is far from over, but I am happy to report that I have already gained valuable insights about myself and about family relations.

No journey of self-discovery, however, is ever complete; there always remains some unfinished business. Today, on the drive home from work an old song came up on the car’s radio. Listening to Dave Mason’s song about a long-lost love (“We Just Disagree”) reminded me that there is still one piece of unfinished business that I have to take care of.

Bur first, a little background.

I joined Second Life on July 2007. Back then, when I took my first, newbie baby steps, I had no way of knowing that more than three years later I would still be coming “in-world.” My initial reason for joining Second Life was simple enough: I was curious about this strange new computer world. Curiosity got the best of me (what is that about “curiosity killed the cat?”) and so here I am, three years later and I still visit SL on a regular basis.

From my very first newbie day, I was astounded at the ease with which I could meet people and build friendships with people from all over the world. From day one, I took each avatar that I met at face value. Like watching characters in a play or a movie, the avatar became the character that I interacted with. I did not stop to think, however, that just like in a movie or a play, each fictional character is actually played by a real-life actor.

Because it is so easy to meet and befriend people in Second Life, it becomes equally easy to forget that behind every single avatar there lives a real life person. Although our avatars are made of thousands of pixels floating somewhere in a Linden Lab server, the person behind the avatar moving on our computer screen is a real life person, made of real life flesh and blood. Every single avatar that populates Second Life’s world is powered by a mind that is capable of real feelings and emotions; inside every virtual SL character, there beats a real heart that can at times be easily hurt.

Early in my SL life, I had my heart broken by someone for whom SL was a game. I wish that my experience had taught me to be a tad more careful with the feelings of the people that I meet in SL. Instead, I ignored Second Life’s cardinal rule that every avatar is in fact a real life person. In the process, I callously hurt a person whose big RL heart I once held in my avatar’s little hands.

This is then my mea culpa for the wrong that I have done. It is my requiem for the friend that I treated so badly. It is a cautionary tale of what happens when we forget that avatars are more than just pixels.

Back in May 2008, while looking for land to build my new home, I met a wonderful person. He was kind, considerate and as gentle as a big Teddy bear. In fact, he was everything that the man who had previously hurt me was not. Even when I was not on my best behaviour, he never got angry with me and never even scolded me. We spent many hours chatting the night away. It was during these chats that I became aware that in spite of his soft-spoken demeanor, this man was also possessed of a keen intellect, who could give me a run for my money in any debate about any subject. Still waters run deep indeed!

As our friendship deepened, I became aware that he was hoping that our SL relationship would eventually lead to something more—a RL meeting or perhaps a RL relationship. From the very first day we met, I was honest with him by letting him know that I did not want to mix RL and SL. The heart, however, wants what the heart wants; I could see that he was falling deeper and deeper for me.

During the course of our conversations, he learned about “the Wall” that to this day surrounds me. He then became genuinely interested in helping me break down “the Wall.” His efforts to make me come out of my self-imposed seclusion, however, met with obstinate refusal on my part. Instead of seeing that all he wanted to do was to help me, I got angry at his efforts and in many occasions, I told him to simply “let me be.”

In retrospect, I should have “let him go” (for his own good). Instead, I let things go on. They say that in the trial of one’s mind, we only call witnesses for the defense. I suppose that that in my "defense" I can make a feeble argument that it was so easy to bask in the warm afterglow of his incredible friendship that I forgot that the avatar in front of me was man with real feelings. I took him and his feelings for granted; in the process I hurt him incredibly so. He generously gave of himself. In return, all I did was to selfishly take and gave nothing in return.

It has been almost five months since I last saw him online. By now, I have given up hope of ever seeing him online again. The last time that I received an e-mail from him, he assured me that there was nothing wrong--I know better. Once again, he is being true to form--polite, caring and not wishing to hurt my feelings in the least bit. He has finally done what I should have done long ago; he has bowed out gracefully to spare himself further pain and frustration. I can’t blame him.

There is a line from one of his favorite movies, “Bladerunner,” that goes something like this: “The candle that burns twice as bright, burns half as long.” His presence was a bright, glowing candle that burned brightly in my SL life—through my own fault, it burned only for a short time.

Dear one, if you are reading this (and I hope you are) please accept my apologies for all the hurt that I have so grievously caused you. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!

For the rest of you, please don’t forget that every avatar that you meet in SL is a RL person; treat him or her as you would want to be treated yourself. Don’t make the same mistakes that I’ve made.

DAVE MASON - We Just Disagree