Crack. Heroin. Alcohol. These are not the only addictions swarming the nation. Two years ago, I fell into the trap. It was the cool new thing to do, the way to make new friends, the latest trend amongst teens. No, I didn’t have to go to rehab, and no, it wasn’t life-threatening, but it was the biggest guilt-trip of my life.

MySpace was my drug of choice. I discovered it through a friend, and became enthralled in the wonderful world of networking. Within a year, I spent an average of three or four hours a day commenting, blogging, and posting bulletins. Unfortunately, there was one blog that cast me into the deepest hole I’ve ever dug myself into.

The rules were to write something about 25 friends, without putting their names; something you would never be brave enough to say to their face. I did every survey, every quiz, every poll I had seen, so I figured that this was just one more blog; it couldn’t hurt anything, or anyone. I began with little things, such as "2. You’re way too shy around people you don’t know." Unfortunately, the insults escalated to a much higher level as I made my way through the blog; I found myself pouring my heart out and listing anything that has ever bothered me about all of the unfortunate people I listed. I felt as though a small weight had been lifted as I pressed "Preview/Post" and watched the page slowly load, but little did I know, the feeling was going to be very short lived.

My friends started out having fun with it, guessing who was who through clues I had carelessly left in each entry. Soon enough, though, they guessed which number they corresponded with, and feelings began to get hurt. I found myself overloaded with uneasy questions from people on the list such as "Do you really think I wear too much make-up," and "Since when am I a know-it-all?" I began to get nervous and second-guess my decision to post the blog.

Two nights after the blog had been posted, I IMed (instant-messaged) my friend, Mary, and said "heyy! what’s up?" I received a dull "hi" and immediately knew something was bothering her. She followed with "everyone’s over." That phrase confirmed the guilty pang I felt in my stomach; I had always been invited to every get together she had. I knew what was coming. For the next hour or so, I was verbally attacked by every person at Mary’s. It was as if they passed her computer in a circle. Everybody wanted a turn.

I was told that I was a horrible friend. I had no heart. I would be lucky to ever have a social life again. I knew they were entirely right. I even received messages on my cell phone from some suggesting to never contact them again. I had betrayed them and destroyed their trust in me. I wanted to slam my head against the wall repeatedly in hopes of knocking out the answer to the question everyone, including myself, had asked: "Why did you do it?"

I was a hypocrite. I had always said how it was cowardly to shame someone online. I immediately sent personal apologies to each person I hurt, but I was not expecting immediate forgiveness. I spent the next two weeks at my house or at work; my social life destroyed. It took two weeks for people to slowly start forgiving me, and it took almost the entire summer to receive forgiveness from everyone. They were hesitant to consider me their friend once again.

This whole experience taught me to appreciate life at a higher level, and I’ve become more appreciative toward everyone I meet. I grew closer to my friends because I realized how true they were to me. Only such loyal companions would take me back after I had done something so awful. Now we are closer than ever, and I couldn’t be more thankful. It’s a shame that it took something so loathsome to open my eyes. The guilt has yet to leave.