ain't no cure for the stay at home blues
Okay, I've been back for like three days.
I've gone drinking two out of those three days.
My kidneys no longer hurt. I believe that's because I've killed thier nerve endings.
I wanna go home.
(note, 'home' here refers to Melbourne)
That's right. I missed my friends and all the hanging out and staring, and seeing them again, and feeling like I never left, is excellent. It's the being here that isn't.
I feel like an intruder in this city. Coming back of course means I have to go and deal with things I would MUCH rather not deal with. I'm nauseous just about everyday in anticipation, or anxiety, whichever term you feel is more appropriate. I want to wake up at noon and wander up to Nigel's room to find him in the middle of rolling a joint. I want to be sitting here at half past midnite and know that in fifteen minutes Melissa will be showing up so we can go spend the night loosing the plot and getting totally munted. I want to be racing to a matinee showing of some movie nobody's heard of with Meg, because tomorrow is cheap movie day in Melbin. I want go and spend eight dollars on a box of noodles that I can't finish. I want to be woken up in the morning by Melissa's cries of 'man in my bed!'. (man, damn. Where did I get THAT moniker.)
They warn you (with pamphlets) about the coming home blues. I didn't believe them. I was wrong. I'm sure I'll be better soon-ish. I guess part of it really is that there are some - encounters - I'm not looking forward to. Have you ever been afraid that seeing someone might make you vomit? I never was before.
I don't want to have to go through this. Long conversation will in the end change nothing. I could blurb out everything I've been thinking for the last two months, and NONE of it would make me feel better. You know what would make me feel better? I'd like to have one of my best friends back. That's what would make me feel better. I'd love to feel that I could trust and respect and love this person again -- it's the fear that I won't be able to that makes me ill. Everybody knows just how goddamned forgiving I am. Why am I afraid I can't forgive this? Because I feel like i've been played. I feel like I've spent the last three years as the lackey to someone intellectually superior, and the whole thing has been one IMMENSE plan to make me look like the fool I know they think me to be. I want to forgive, but for the sake of my -- my own self respect, can I? If I forgive, am I saying that it's okay for my so called 'friends' to treat me this way? Should I even be worried? I mean, from my perspective it looks like three years of friendship with someone is conveneintly forgotten when it really counted. I have my suspiscions that maybe they just don't care, not maybe. I have my beliefs that they don't care. And if I say 'I can't do this, goodbye' will they be choked up? Probably not. There will always be some other poor un-assuming sucker to take my place. I don't think they would even learn the lesson. What's that lesson? YOU CAN'T SHOW PEOPLE THEY DON'T MATTER TO YOU AND THEN SOMEHOW HOPE THEY WILL STILL BE YOUR FRIEND. But, looking at this logically, to me it seems that they already made the decision. That maybe three years didn't add up to whatever it is they got out of what happened. That makes me want to cry. I can never believe that three years of my friendship with someone can be so easily cast aside. The simple fact that I'm in this position makes me weepy.
But I get it. I can see the whole plan now. A carefully orchestrated system designed not JUST to make sure I look like the biggest fool I can, but also to see that my former position in a social strata is effectively erased. In one fell swoop, not only was I the greatest villain ever encountered, but my place in the heirarchy was ingeniously usurped to the point where I can't even return to a place that was once like a home to me (a home that made me miserable yes, but a home none the less). Is there a lesson in all this? Well yes, don't be a moron and start bad shit, that's my lesson. But is there another lesson? Yes. That lesson is, I don't know what that lesson is, but maybe to me it should be that I can't trust anyone outside of the crew. They are one group of people who have never made me feel this way -- and I've never had to think about having the 'are we friends anymore or aren't we' conversation with one of them.
I'm a wreck. (Look at my car, it's a mess! I'm a mess!) I will be a wreck until I sit through this conversation, and by then I'll be a basket case, not a wreck. I don't think I can even look at them. I can't trust them. I have no idea what they want from me next, but I am in no emotional state to put up a fight against someone who seems to enjoy making me look like the worlds biggest fool. If I have to play any games, christ, if I even have to explain why I'm so upset, I don't think I could take it. Have my soul! Take whatever you want and scar the rest! (Actually, I think it's too late for that. People who don't talk make me feel VERY insecure now - and we won't even talk about how the notion of a 'relationship' the way I used to understand them makes me feel.)
You'd think it would be easy. Either 'Burn in hell buckfutter' or 'It's all cool'. I guess it is just that easy. I just don't want to make the wrong choice. I don't want to forgive and send the message that I am in fact a door mat suitable for anyone who wants to take a shot at me.
I think about them, and I feel empty.
And that upsets me most of all.
I've gone drinking two out of those three days.
My kidneys no longer hurt. I believe that's because I've killed thier nerve endings.
I wanna go home.
(note, 'home' here refers to Melbourne)
That's right. I missed my friends and all the hanging out and staring, and seeing them again, and feeling like I never left, is excellent. It's the being here that isn't.
I feel like an intruder in this city. Coming back of course means I have to go and deal with things I would MUCH rather not deal with. I'm nauseous just about everyday in anticipation, or anxiety, whichever term you feel is more appropriate. I want to wake up at noon and wander up to Nigel's room to find him in the middle of rolling a joint. I want to be sitting here at half past midnite and know that in fifteen minutes Melissa will be showing up so we can go spend the night loosing the plot and getting totally munted. I want to be racing to a matinee showing of some movie nobody's heard of with Meg, because tomorrow is cheap movie day in Melbin. I want go and spend eight dollars on a box of noodles that I can't finish. I want to be woken up in the morning by Melissa's cries of 'man in my bed!'. (man, damn. Where did I get THAT moniker.)
They warn you (with pamphlets) about the coming home blues. I didn't believe them. I was wrong. I'm sure I'll be better soon-ish. I guess part of it really is that there are some - encounters - I'm not looking forward to. Have you ever been afraid that seeing someone might make you vomit? I never was before.
I don't want to have to go through this. Long conversation will in the end change nothing. I could blurb out everything I've been thinking for the last two months, and NONE of it would make me feel better. You know what would make me feel better? I'd like to have one of my best friends back. That's what would make me feel better. I'd love to feel that I could trust and respect and love this person again -- it's the fear that I won't be able to that makes me ill. Everybody knows just how goddamned forgiving I am. Why am I afraid I can't forgive this? Because I feel like i've been played. I feel like I've spent the last three years as the lackey to someone intellectually superior, and the whole thing has been one IMMENSE plan to make me look like the fool I know they think me to be. I want to forgive, but for the sake of my -- my own self respect, can I? If I forgive, am I saying that it's okay for my so called 'friends' to treat me this way? Should I even be worried? I mean, from my perspective it looks like three years of friendship with someone is conveneintly forgotten when it really counted. I have my suspiscions that maybe they just don't care, not maybe. I have my beliefs that they don't care. And if I say 'I can't do this, goodbye' will they be choked up? Probably not. There will always be some other poor un-assuming sucker to take my place. I don't think they would even learn the lesson. What's that lesson? YOU CAN'T SHOW PEOPLE THEY DON'T MATTER TO YOU AND THEN SOMEHOW HOPE THEY WILL STILL BE YOUR FRIEND. But, looking at this logically, to me it seems that they already made the decision. That maybe three years didn't add up to whatever it is they got out of what happened. That makes me want to cry. I can never believe that three years of my friendship with someone can be so easily cast aside. The simple fact that I'm in this position makes me weepy.
But I get it. I can see the whole plan now. A carefully orchestrated system designed not JUST to make sure I look like the biggest fool I can, but also to see that my former position in a social strata is effectively erased. In one fell swoop, not only was I the greatest villain ever encountered, but my place in the heirarchy was ingeniously usurped to the point where I can't even return to a place that was once like a home to me (a home that made me miserable yes, but a home none the less). Is there a lesson in all this? Well yes, don't be a moron and start bad shit, that's my lesson. But is there another lesson? Yes. That lesson is, I don't know what that lesson is, but maybe to me it should be that I can't trust anyone outside of the crew. They are one group of people who have never made me feel this way -- and I've never had to think about having the 'are we friends anymore or aren't we' conversation with one of them.
I'm a wreck. (Look at my car, it's a mess! I'm a mess!) I will be a wreck until I sit through this conversation, and by then I'll be a basket case, not a wreck. I don't think I can even look at them. I can't trust them. I have no idea what they want from me next, but I am in no emotional state to put up a fight against someone who seems to enjoy making me look like the worlds biggest fool. If I have to play any games, christ, if I even have to explain why I'm so upset, I don't think I could take it. Have my soul! Take whatever you want and scar the rest! (Actually, I think it's too late for that. People who don't talk make me feel VERY insecure now - and we won't even talk about how the notion of a 'relationship' the way I used to understand them makes me feel.)
You'd think it would be easy. Either 'Burn in hell buckfutter' or 'It's all cool'. I guess it is just that easy. I just don't want to make the wrong choice. I don't want to forgive and send the message that I am in fact a door mat suitable for anyone who wants to take a shot at me.
I think about them, and I feel empty.
And that upsets me most of all.