(no subject)
My family has forgiven John for what he did to me back then.
For emotionally screwing me over in a big way, as a friend and more.
Using me as a source of comfort and support and self-esteem, and deserting me because he was too cowardly and blind to do right by any of us (me, her, himself).
His family can't forgive me for damage inflicted by my past I can't help.
My worst offense?
Being robbed by my family, waiting for the justice system to give me what's mine, and sleeping late because my crippling anxiety and insomnia and HIS partying fuck up my schedule.
Adorable.
I understand people being set in their ways and having their ideas and being incapable of understanding what they've never experienced, or even being hypocrites...
what I can't understand is seeing someone clearly on the brink, and not being able to resist pushing and pushing them.
I don't owe anyone shit, I don't have anything to prove.
Yeah, his ex got him through school and was motivated...she's also a cheating whore who'll do anything for attention and never respected them and treated him like shit.
Am I really what there is to be concerned with?
I realize by normal standards I am disfunctional.
But considering my life circumstances, what I am is a miracle.
I could be evil, I could be weak, I could be desperate, I could be bitter, spiteful, I could be riddled with addictions and neurosis far worse.
I am sweet and scared and tired and sad and constantly trying trying trying just to be.
How awful, how my fault.
Who cares?
No one enough to ever, even once, stand up for me.
It's so easy to make it my fault.
So easy to say I should be able just to be past it, be less weak.
I should be MORE of a survivor. I should be MORE healthy in spite of all the reasons I shouldn't be at all. I should be 'normal' to comfort others while my comfort could clearly not matter less to them.
I accepted long ago it working out with someone whose family didn't exactly get me.
But to think of accepting it working out with someone who can't stand up for me or make me the one exception to their tendencies toward acquiescence, the path of least resistance, the incapability of confrontation unless the offense is directly personal.
Feels familiar.
It wasn't acceptable before, it won't be now.
So what then?
When communication is great but never changes anything, what's the point? What's the shelf life?
The credit incident keeping us from getting the house seems like meant to be.
Apparently there's a good chance as always that nothing will work out for me, and again I'll be alone to float between assholes I don't care about and people I do that won't be satisfied with me.
I would not rather be a cheesy psuedo hippie doormat, even if it's what someone likes, just like I didn't want to be an insecure lesbian, a slutty scenester, or any of the other beasts I somehow pale in comparison to.
They're always so sorry and regretful and know they missed out-
but never enough to have treated me correctly all along.
I wait still for the ability to forgive and excuse and empathize to leave me.
A gift and a curse that let's me stay human and stay hurt.
Comfort in monotony...wash, dry, fold, put away, sort, wipe, walk- speech is what I lose.
For emotionally screwing me over in a big way, as a friend and more.
Using me as a source of comfort and support and self-esteem, and deserting me because he was too cowardly and blind to do right by any of us (me, her, himself).
His family can't forgive me for damage inflicted by my past I can't help.
My worst offense?
Being robbed by my family, waiting for the justice system to give me what's mine, and sleeping late because my crippling anxiety and insomnia and HIS partying fuck up my schedule.
Adorable.
I understand people being set in their ways and having their ideas and being incapable of understanding what they've never experienced, or even being hypocrites...
what I can't understand is seeing someone clearly on the brink, and not being able to resist pushing and pushing them.
I don't owe anyone shit, I don't have anything to prove.
Yeah, his ex got him through school and was motivated...she's also a cheating whore who'll do anything for attention and never respected them and treated him like shit.
Am I really what there is to be concerned with?
I realize by normal standards I am disfunctional.
But considering my life circumstances, what I am is a miracle.
I could be evil, I could be weak, I could be desperate, I could be bitter, spiteful, I could be riddled with addictions and neurosis far worse.
I am sweet and scared and tired and sad and constantly trying trying trying just to be.
How awful, how my fault.
Who cares?
No one enough to ever, even once, stand up for me.
It's so easy to make it my fault.
So easy to say I should be able just to be past it, be less weak.
I should be MORE of a survivor. I should be MORE healthy in spite of all the reasons I shouldn't be at all. I should be 'normal' to comfort others while my comfort could clearly not matter less to them.
I accepted long ago it working out with someone whose family didn't exactly get me.
But to think of accepting it working out with someone who can't stand up for me or make me the one exception to their tendencies toward acquiescence, the path of least resistance, the incapability of confrontation unless the offense is directly personal.
Feels familiar.
It wasn't acceptable before, it won't be now.
So what then?
When communication is great but never changes anything, what's the point? What's the shelf life?
The credit incident keeping us from getting the house seems like meant to be.
Apparently there's a good chance as always that nothing will work out for me, and again I'll be alone to float between assholes I don't care about and people I do that won't be satisfied with me.
I would not rather be a cheesy psuedo hippie doormat, even if it's what someone likes, just like I didn't want to be an insecure lesbian, a slutty scenester, or any of the other beasts I somehow pale in comparison to.
They're always so sorry and regretful and know they missed out-
but never enough to have treated me correctly all along.
I wait still for the ability to forgive and excuse and empathize to leave me.
A gift and a curse that let's me stay human and stay hurt.
Comfort in monotony...wash, dry, fold, put away, sort, wipe, walk- speech is what I lose.