I would like to grant you a no holds barred, all access pass to the after party in the backstage of my mind. Like I don’t already spill my proverbial guts on this pixelated screen now, right? Ha, I say. Ha.
Today I was such a multi-tasking fool that I managed to aid in the cosolation of one relationship and somehow ended up fucking up another. How, you might ask? Honestly, I don’t have a fucking clue. But if I did, rest assured, I would explain it all away, in the hopes that this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach would go away, and that the anger and mistrust that I feel would no longer be as prevalent as they are. Is this situation fair? I think not.
It seems that my job in life is to be everyone’s counselor. Please don’t mistake that comment as a complaint – I like the fact that people trust me and think of me as a good enough person to talk to about their issues. I don’t mind at all usually, it brings me a sense of accomplishment and belonging. In some way, it manages to fill that empty void that I have deep in the cockles of my heart of hearts. I do happen to mind when people think that I need to be there for them, and only them. I only have 24 hours in my day, too, you ass. Why is it that when I am finding happiness in my social life for the first time in a long time, I am pulled down into the emotional wreckage of something which I had nothing to do with? Why can’t you just be happy for me? I am finally at a point in my life where I can use more than 1 hand to count the number of friends that I have. Hell, now that I think about it, I might actually have to remove a sock! And despite what you may believe me to be based upon that comment, the lack of friends is really about me not allowing people into my life, for fear that they would do the very shit that I am cursing and crying over at this moment.
I have found several people lately, who I consider to be good hearted and kind and caring and compassionate, to call my friends. And these folks actually listen to me when I need them instead of me always being the one giving. They listen to me vent without judgement and they are ok if I don’t always want to go out to lunch with them. They accept the reality that they are not the only ones in my life, they play well with others. This all, of course, doesn’t mean that I care for my “old” friends any less, but it does mean that I have different friends now that allow me to feel and act different ways, and forgive my ignorance, but I think shit like that is important. Never in my life have I been so blessed with such a ridiculous amount of positive energy and caring on any given day, by so many. I pinch myself sometimes to make certain that this fairlyland of friendship is in fact reality, and not something left over from the booze last night, or the night before, or the night before that.
Yet it never fails to downpour on my little parties. Joy always begats misery for me; they go hand in hand, like peanut butter and jelly, like bread and butter, like…oil and water? I am so hurt and distressed over the fact that despite all that I do, it is never enough for some people, that I’m half-assed ready to throw up ol’ faithful and tell them to fuck off. And although that won’t really solve anything, I do believe that right now, it’s just about all I am capable of.