Student "edition" found at {csi dot journalspace dot com}.

Maybe I shouldn't have started this blog now, not with everything that's been going on.

To continue my story from yesterday, at one point after Galatea met my friends outside of school at the vegetarian cafeteria we all frequented, she said she to me outright that didn't like them and didn't like it when I lent them a telescope.

This was especially after I left her at her "pastor" sister's fundamentalist camp where she had invited me for the Holy Week, and - based on spending one night in the "boys'" hut - asked those same friends who lived nearby to rescue me.

It came to the point when I couldn't teach one of my classes because of being bothered by how she was treating me, and we ended up at her desk where I cried, but nothing was resolved about the issue. We didn’t come to an understanding.

Even when we had her best friend mediate, Galatea started out listing all my "faults", and I listened quietly.

But when it was my turn saying she was always critical of me, she defended, "This is how I am." She even said that pointing out all their errors was how she treated all her other friends, which I did not for a second believe.

So the best way to keep myself from getting hurt anymore was to stop hanging around her.

When her best friend asked me about why we don't hang out anymore, I just said, "Windows" meaning that the common times of opportunity had passed. Some time later she said she was leaving for another college, which she said should make me happy. I did not rise to the bait and didn't reply.

Our last "contact" was when I asked her best friend about the new college the best friend was working at, thinking of applying there, and Galatea sent me a long email telling me why that would not be a good idea. I didn't push through with the application, but I didn't reply to her either. In the letter she even said she was still "angry at the world" as I put it, which were never my words, but were mostly likely her interpretation of what I was saying.

The last I heard of her was about five years ago when she met some of my other co-teachers, and she told them - I'm not sure if it was serious or in passing, "Please tell him I'm sorry."

But beyond that last supposedly sincere talk with her best friend present, I never told her I'd had it. For all intents and purposes it just looked like we drifted apart.

Session 1961 knows when to move out of protracted painful situations. Class dismissed.