I was walking to class and I saw her. I expected her to give me dirty looks and to walk away smirking, because anger is so hilarious and impotent, because I've done this before and I've become lighthearted and reckless with other people's feelings. I set myself away from them, because there are no victims in life, or perhaps we all are, but either way it gives me no reason to favor her, or any of the people that this has happened to.

But she wasn't angry. It was this sadness. It was this quiet acceptance of who she thought I was and who she thought she was, and I felt embarassed of the insolence I had just felt in attempt to defend my actions and distance myself from her, of all the things I have convinced myself. And I knew when she looked at me that none of it was true, that I couldn't pretend that I had no guilt, that I was untouched by other human beings. And I wanted to tell her all of these things, to say, "I'm no better than you, he means nothing, we are equals, I respect you, you are beautiful."

I felt ashamed of my own happiness, and how easily I could be looking at some stranger the way she looked at me, and to recognize how sad she was was so intensely painful.