Because I have to say something
Apparently I can’t keep my word for longer than three days. This is unpleasantness making its way into my journal once more. But it’s under a cut so anyone can skip it and pretend it isn’t there.
For a while now I’ve felt out of place. There’s something going on with me that I haven’t fully figured out and the lack of knowing keeps making me cranky and snippy. I try not to take it out on my friends because they don’t deserve it but sometimes I fail and I feel bad. This has gone on for a little over a month.
I’ve gone into long periods of introspection but can’t make sense of it. Through all this search for the old me; drama has been a constant visitor between those around me and myself. I’ve gown very tired of this whole situation; of trying to figure myself out and dealing with everyone else’s problems as well.
I’m tired of being the responsible one, the one who remembers and reminds, the voice of fucking reason. I’m tired of Maddy accusing me of shit I haven’t done; of her constant paranoia of being left behind or being overshadowed by the guy. I’m tired of struggling to keep my head above the surface.
The accusations don’t hurt because they’re shadowed by truth (because they’re not) but because part of her believes they are true and that’s why she keeps bringing it up. And saying it to the whole class was low. My opinion of her lowered a bit at that moment and I don’t think it’ll go back up. I wouldn’t have done something like that. Not even as a joke.
I keep daydreaming about having my own place. It makes me sad knowing that that’s what I’m silently wishing for but I crave escape. I’m so fucking tired.
Every time things are picking up, they crash back down. I’m tired of having to get back up because people can’t think of anyone but themselves. I’d rather be a hermit than have to keep dealing with this for the rest of my life.
But see…it doesn’t matter when she doesn’t care or when she does something that hurts or shuts us out. It’s only an issue when I do it. It affects everyone else when I do it. Why? Why does she get to be like that and I can’t? What gives her that right?
---
And don’t you value people who tell you the truth? If that’s true, why do you get all hurt and offended if I say it? Or if Pao says it?
You complain about being left out, of us never telling you anything, of some cosmic injustice because you’re in a different room giving love to a computer. You complain that we don’t notice your efforts of being nicer and cuddlier. But you don’t do shit.
Why should we keep going to you? Why should we work under your timetable? Why should we go out of our way to keep pleasing you when you don’t make a move? Being nice shouldn’t come as a forced action; it should just be because it’s us. You can be the cold bitch to everyone else if you want but that shouldn’t be your first instinct with us.
You accuse us of not trying but that’s all we’ve done. We’ve put up with a lot because we fucking love you but you don’t see that. You only see what doesn’t meet your expectations, your standards or whatever the fuck it is.
I’m tired of waiting for you, of running after you. Run after me. Run after Pao. I know we’re not easy either, or anywhere near perfect, and we haven’t always made the right choices but, dammit, we try.
Sometimes I think you care more about the stupid orange cat. I don’t care if he stays or goes; I don’t care if any of them stay or go. And no, I’m not putting up a front. I honestly don’t give a shit. I should’ve taken Bug to get his balls cut off sooner, true. That was my responsibility and I don’t intend to weasel out of it. But, personally, if I knew my friend needed a number and was trying get it and I had it, I’d have given it to her instead of mentioning it in passing once when we were doing something completely unrelated away from the apartment. But that’s me.
I asked for a little time for myself because I seriously need to fix whatever is wrong with me but even that simple request is hard to grant. I can’t talk to you guys (yes, that includes Pao), I know what you’ll say and, frankly, I don’t feel like trying. I’m tired of trying. And, hell, maybe that’s the problem but I still won’t talk. I’ve said everything once before and it’s all fallen on non-sympathetic or judgmental or deaf ears. I’ll stick to the walls and my notebooks and the little voice in my head that tells me to do things that are bad for my health (who I ignore, by the way…most of the time.)
I don’t say any of this to hurt or be mean. I’m expression what I’ve been feeling lately; what I’ve kept inside because I’ve been too afraid to say the wrong thing and end a friendship I want to last forever. I’m still afraid of what’ll happen but I care too much not, at least, try because there’s always the possibility that it’ll be worse if I don’t say anything.
I’m just so fucking tired; of everything. I took those two PMs hoping I wouldn’t wake up…for at least a few days. Hoping maybe my body would just shut off for a while for some reason not explainable by modern medicine. Same with the anesthesia when I had surgery. But I always wake up and I wander why and what will happen.
For a while now I’ve felt out of place. There’s something going on with me that I haven’t fully figured out and the lack of knowing keeps making me cranky and snippy. I try not to take it out on my friends because they don’t deserve it but sometimes I fail and I feel bad. This has gone on for a little over a month.
I’ve gone into long periods of introspection but can’t make sense of it. Through all this search for the old me; drama has been a constant visitor between those around me and myself. I’ve gown very tired of this whole situation; of trying to figure myself out and dealing with everyone else’s problems as well.
I’m tired of being the responsible one, the one who remembers and reminds, the voice of fucking reason. I’m tired of Maddy accusing me of shit I haven’t done; of her constant paranoia of being left behind or being overshadowed by the guy. I’m tired of struggling to keep my head above the surface.
The accusations don’t hurt because they’re shadowed by truth (because they’re not) but because part of her believes they are true and that’s why she keeps bringing it up. And saying it to the whole class was low. My opinion of her lowered a bit at that moment and I don’t think it’ll go back up. I wouldn’t have done something like that. Not even as a joke.
I keep daydreaming about having my own place. It makes me sad knowing that that’s what I’m silently wishing for but I crave escape. I’m so fucking tired.
Every time things are picking up, they crash back down. I’m tired of having to get back up because people can’t think of anyone but themselves. I’d rather be a hermit than have to keep dealing with this for the rest of my life.
But see…it doesn’t matter when she doesn’t care or when she does something that hurts or shuts us out. It’s only an issue when I do it. It affects everyone else when I do it. Why? Why does she get to be like that and I can’t? What gives her that right?
---
And don’t you value people who tell you the truth? If that’s true, why do you get all hurt and offended if I say it? Or if Pao says it?
You complain about being left out, of us never telling you anything, of some cosmic injustice because you’re in a different room giving love to a computer. You complain that we don’t notice your efforts of being nicer and cuddlier. But you don’t do shit.
Why should we keep going to you? Why should we work under your timetable? Why should we go out of our way to keep pleasing you when you don’t make a move? Being nice shouldn’t come as a forced action; it should just be because it’s us. You can be the cold bitch to everyone else if you want but that shouldn’t be your first instinct with us.
You accuse us of not trying but that’s all we’ve done. We’ve put up with a lot because we fucking love you but you don’t see that. You only see what doesn’t meet your expectations, your standards or whatever the fuck it is.
I’m tired of waiting for you, of running after you. Run after me. Run after Pao. I know we’re not easy either, or anywhere near perfect, and we haven’t always made the right choices but, dammit, we try.
Sometimes I think you care more about the stupid orange cat. I don’t care if he stays or goes; I don’t care if any of them stay or go. And no, I’m not putting up a front. I honestly don’t give a shit. I should’ve taken Bug to get his balls cut off sooner, true. That was my responsibility and I don’t intend to weasel out of it. But, personally, if I knew my friend needed a number and was trying get it and I had it, I’d have given it to her instead of mentioning it in passing once when we were doing something completely unrelated away from the apartment. But that’s me.
I asked for a little time for myself because I seriously need to fix whatever is wrong with me but even that simple request is hard to grant. I can’t talk to you guys (yes, that includes Pao), I know what you’ll say and, frankly, I don’t feel like trying. I’m tired of trying. And, hell, maybe that’s the problem but I still won’t talk. I’ve said everything once before and it’s all fallen on non-sympathetic or judgmental or deaf ears. I’ll stick to the walls and my notebooks and the little voice in my head that tells me to do things that are bad for my health (who I ignore, by the way…most of the time.)
I don’t say any of this to hurt or be mean. I’m expression what I’ve been feeling lately; what I’ve kept inside because I’ve been too afraid to say the wrong thing and end a friendship I want to last forever. I’m still afraid of what’ll happen but I care too much not, at least, try because there’s always the possibility that it’ll be worse if I don’t say anything.
I’m just so fucking tired; of everything. I took those two PMs hoping I wouldn’t wake up…for at least a few days. Hoping maybe my body would just shut off for a while for some reason not explainable by modern medicine. Same with the anesthesia when I had surgery. But I always wake up and I wander why and what will happen.