Pending / Recap
I think I've been struck with the wanderlust. I just want to get in my car and drive wherever it can take me. Anywhere. Unfortunately, I don't have the money to do this right now. I'd like to hang out with friends I never get to see. Like Esche, or Richard (that fucking weirdo, lolz). Or John and Robert. I know a good number of people scattered all across this great nation, and I think I'd like to see and spend some good times with them if I can muster the finances for it.
I think this is somewhat stemming from my alienation from the world, which is not necessarily self-imposed. I've never felt like a part of this place. Like I just don't belong, and sometimes, I think I honestly do not belong in this place. This feeling has been the impetus behind so many things in my life. Drug use, depression, thoughts of suicide. Not to sound melodramatic, that's not my intent at all. I choose to do all the things that I do, for good or for ill, but sometimes that hard knot starts working it's way through my stomach, up into my chest, and it just aches. I like myself and most things about me, but that doesn't mean that I feel the rest of the world is the same way. In a world where no one is really unique, I still feel different and apart from it. Too beautiful to live, too strange to die! Not really though. I'd say I'm too strange to die, certainly, but I'm not exactly beautiful. Handsome, maybe, but who's really keeping score in all this?
My first experience with drugs was when I was with Kristy. She had a really nasty habit for a while, and I guess I figured it'd bring us closer together. I was wrong. Some of those nights I spent, wide awake, with her but still so very alone, I honestly wanted to die. I was reaching out and she, for the most part, ignored me. I never got as heavy into it as she did, only going on maybe a five day bender before realizing that the shit was fucking evil. I never intended to get addicted, and I never was, or will be. That's one thing I refuse to let happen to myself. I even helped her quit when she finally realized she had a problem. For about the next month, Shamus and I housed and took care of her. She slept just about the entire time, only getting up to eat or go to the bathroom. The few days she spent in my house weren't exactly awesome, because I have to set an example for the younger siblings, y'see, and while helping a dopefiend get clean is an admirable task, it was for someone that just about everyone in my family bitterly disliked. So I caught some shit for that.
And after all that bullshit (along with a lot of other things that I could probably write about for hours on end), she ended the relationship when I, knowing that she was just using me as a ride, told her I wasn't going to do anything else for her. She didn't even bother responding to that after I said it, and I haven't spoken to her since, except to ask how Selphie was, and even then I didn't receive a response. I found out a few months later that she was talking shit about me. She probably still is. She told Ben, a mutual friend, that I started a heavy drug habit, which was not true. At the time, I was only occasionally smoking green, which is hardly as severe a drug as she was originally hooked on. I'm not too bothered by it, though. She can lie about me all she wants, the truth still shines through. In much the same matter, anyone who's known her long enough knows she's pretty much a compulsive liar who spins things in her favor. Oh, women. How I love you.
No, I'm not bitter. That'd be a useless thing to feel, honestly. What happened, happened, simple as that, and I can't change it and wouldn't change it. All that shit, and all that dirt, and everything else that was drowning me at the time was what allowed me to grow stronger and eventually claw my way out of the mess. I am who I am because of what happened, and honestly, I like who I am. She made me a better person, in that I refuse to allow myself to be harmed in such a manner anymore. This ties in quite nicely with the next woman I ran across.
Oh, Marjan... I do miss those nights or mornings sitting on her porch, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes while talking about socialism and philosophy. They were good times, but it didn't last too long...
Some people do themselves a great disservice in shunning those that speak out against them. I still remember when I asked her why I hadn't seen or heard from her for a while after a minor argument, she said "I'm cutting the hassle out of my life." Well, that bothered me. So I said, plainly and flatly to her a few days down the road, "you've been a real bitch lately." She was shocked, and honestly, I wondered why. Then it kinda hit me. When you're surrounded by people who don't say shit to you when you act in a fucked up manner, you get used to compliance in all things. She once told me that Spencer surrounds himself with yes men, or women in his case, and she found that deplorable. Little did I know how ironic that would be, coming from her lips. After I called her a bitch and went home, she called me out over the phone. I had misunderstood her, she said. I don't buy that. I still don't. At that point I realized she and I could never be anything more than casual friends, and even that she didn't want. I haven't even really talked to her since then, by her own accord.
Still, life's not that bad. Just gettin' through it one day at a time.
I think this is somewhat stemming from my alienation from the world, which is not necessarily self-imposed. I've never felt like a part of this place. Like I just don't belong, and sometimes, I think I honestly do not belong in this place. This feeling has been the impetus behind so many things in my life. Drug use, depression, thoughts of suicide. Not to sound melodramatic, that's not my intent at all. I choose to do all the things that I do, for good or for ill, but sometimes that hard knot starts working it's way through my stomach, up into my chest, and it just aches. I like myself and most things about me, but that doesn't mean that I feel the rest of the world is the same way. In a world where no one is really unique, I still feel different and apart from it. Too beautiful to live, too strange to die! Not really though. I'd say I'm too strange to die, certainly, but I'm not exactly beautiful. Handsome, maybe, but who's really keeping score in all this?
My first experience with drugs was when I was with Kristy. She had a really nasty habit for a while, and I guess I figured it'd bring us closer together. I was wrong. Some of those nights I spent, wide awake, with her but still so very alone, I honestly wanted to die. I was reaching out and she, for the most part, ignored me. I never got as heavy into it as she did, only going on maybe a five day bender before realizing that the shit was fucking evil. I never intended to get addicted, and I never was, or will be. That's one thing I refuse to let happen to myself. I even helped her quit when she finally realized she had a problem. For about the next month, Shamus and I housed and took care of her. She slept just about the entire time, only getting up to eat or go to the bathroom. The few days she spent in my house weren't exactly awesome, because I have to set an example for the younger siblings, y'see, and while helping a dopefiend get clean is an admirable task, it was for someone that just about everyone in my family bitterly disliked. So I caught some shit for that.
And after all that bullshit (along with a lot of other things that I could probably write about for hours on end), she ended the relationship when I, knowing that she was just using me as a ride, told her I wasn't going to do anything else for her. She didn't even bother responding to that after I said it, and I haven't spoken to her since, except to ask how Selphie was, and even then I didn't receive a response. I found out a few months later that she was talking shit about me. She probably still is. She told Ben, a mutual friend, that I started a heavy drug habit, which was not true. At the time, I was only occasionally smoking green, which is hardly as severe a drug as she was originally hooked on. I'm not too bothered by it, though. She can lie about me all she wants, the truth still shines through. In much the same matter, anyone who's known her long enough knows she's pretty much a compulsive liar who spins things in her favor. Oh, women. How I love you.
No, I'm not bitter. That'd be a useless thing to feel, honestly. What happened, happened, simple as that, and I can't change it and wouldn't change it. All that shit, and all that dirt, and everything else that was drowning me at the time was what allowed me to grow stronger and eventually claw my way out of the mess. I am who I am because of what happened, and honestly, I like who I am. She made me a better person, in that I refuse to allow myself to be harmed in such a manner anymore. This ties in quite nicely with the next woman I ran across.
Oh, Marjan... I do miss those nights or mornings sitting on her porch, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes while talking about socialism and philosophy. They were good times, but it didn't last too long...
Some people do themselves a great disservice in shunning those that speak out against them. I still remember when I asked her why I hadn't seen or heard from her for a while after a minor argument, she said "I'm cutting the hassle out of my life." Well, that bothered me. So I said, plainly and flatly to her a few days down the road, "you've been a real bitch lately." She was shocked, and honestly, I wondered why. Then it kinda hit me. When you're surrounded by people who don't say shit to you when you act in a fucked up manner, you get used to compliance in all things. She once told me that Spencer surrounds himself with yes men, or women in his case, and she found that deplorable. Little did I know how ironic that would be, coming from her lips. After I called her a bitch and went home, she called me out over the phone. I had misunderstood her, she said. I don't buy that. I still don't. At that point I realized she and I could never be anything more than casual friends, and even that she didn't want. I haven't even really talked to her since then, by her own accord.
Still, life's not that bad. Just gettin' through it one day at a time.