(no subject)
Today was finally the one where I learned how to move forward, I think.
Of course I cried during his speech. He was honest with us. He told us not what we wanted to hear, but what we needed to. That America needs fixing, with elbow grease and a few replaced parts, if we're going to get it running again. That this illusion of national supremacy is only valid if we put in the overtime for that to be true. We were adults, being spoken to without condescension or that faked comradery I've come to hate so much over the last eight years. No, I do not want to sit and have a beer with you. I want to be told what I can do to play my part in this movement. And it is a movement, now. No longer are our forces - people and president - at odds with one another. No longer must we depend on the harried progress of two steps forward, one step back. With all of the grand allusions to what we've left behind - the words of an old negro spiritual, the footage of the million man march - what really matters is what this machine is moving towards.
And i'd be lying were I to say I didn't feel a portion of that shift happen within myself. I'm finally leaving this place, after so many years fearing that I'd never make it out. And I know I'll have to work - student loans don't pay themselves - but as long as I do, I'll be working for personal progress. I'm done with the emotional abuse that reduces me to something so small she could swallow me whole. I'm done with her telling me what to do for the sake of manipulation; when I can and can't see my father, when she has to be allowed into the psychiatrist's office or I can't leave the house for the rest of the day. I'm ready to be productive without fear of being told I'm injuring her.
In the same sense, I think I realized today that I'm done with this damn game. Kati probably intends to ease back into our friendship eventually, I assume. But it's too late, now. It's too late for all three of them. How many phone calls did I make, how many text messages did I send? How many times did I try to get a hold of them to make peace, or something like it? They made me feel guilty for feeling betrayed and for telling them so. But what sort of a friendship is that? I'm done making an effort only to be ignored. Sure, it's sad, because I don't have that many friends here. But the ones I do have wouldn't dare treat me like this. They wouldn't leave me grovelling for friendship without the benefit of discussion or explanation. For too damn long she has disregarded how I feel. Look at my birthday, for Christ's sake. She didn't even speak to me because the night before I had told Maggie that their cuddling bothered me. She, who cares more about birthdays than anyone else I know, wouldn't even acknowledge me the day I turned eighteen. I spent that night backstage on the phone with Bouse crying because not only was she ignoring me, she was skipping out on the show as well. But, you know what? That night I ended up at a table of people who cared about me. Because, with or without her, those people do exist. They love me and don't get upset over petty things. Maybe I'm so used to being made to feel like shit emotionally I seek it out. Maybe this cycle of saying how I feel then asking forgiveness for doing so is something I've been trained to do since I was five years old.
But I'm done. I swear to god, I'm done.
Of course I cried during his speech. He was honest with us. He told us not what we wanted to hear, but what we needed to. That America needs fixing, with elbow grease and a few replaced parts, if we're going to get it running again. That this illusion of national supremacy is only valid if we put in the overtime for that to be true. We were adults, being spoken to without condescension or that faked comradery I've come to hate so much over the last eight years. No, I do not want to sit and have a beer with you. I want to be told what I can do to play my part in this movement. And it is a movement, now. No longer are our forces - people and president - at odds with one another. No longer must we depend on the harried progress of two steps forward, one step back. With all of the grand allusions to what we've left behind - the words of an old negro spiritual, the footage of the million man march - what really matters is what this machine is moving towards.
And i'd be lying were I to say I didn't feel a portion of that shift happen within myself. I'm finally leaving this place, after so many years fearing that I'd never make it out. And I know I'll have to work - student loans don't pay themselves - but as long as I do, I'll be working for personal progress. I'm done with the emotional abuse that reduces me to something so small she could swallow me whole. I'm done with her telling me what to do for the sake of manipulation; when I can and can't see my father, when she has to be allowed into the psychiatrist's office or I can't leave the house for the rest of the day. I'm ready to be productive without fear of being told I'm injuring her.
In the same sense, I think I realized today that I'm done with this damn game. Kati probably intends to ease back into our friendship eventually, I assume. But it's too late, now. It's too late for all three of them. How many phone calls did I make, how many text messages did I send? How many times did I try to get a hold of them to make peace, or something like it? They made me feel guilty for feeling betrayed and for telling them so. But what sort of a friendship is that? I'm done making an effort only to be ignored. Sure, it's sad, because I don't have that many friends here. But the ones I do have wouldn't dare treat me like this. They wouldn't leave me grovelling for friendship without the benefit of discussion or explanation. For too damn long she has disregarded how I feel. Look at my birthday, for Christ's sake. She didn't even speak to me because the night before I had told Maggie that their cuddling bothered me. She, who cares more about birthdays than anyone else I know, wouldn't even acknowledge me the day I turned eighteen. I spent that night backstage on the phone with Bouse crying because not only was she ignoring me, she was skipping out on the show as well. But, you know what? That night I ended up at a table of people who cared about me. Because, with or without her, those people do exist. They love me and don't get upset over petty things. Maybe I'm so used to being made to feel like shit emotionally I seek it out. Maybe this cycle of saying how I feel then asking forgiveness for doing so is something I've been trained to do since I was five years old.
But I'm done. I swear to god, I'm done.