I lied yesterday. I said everything is ok. But it’s not. It gnaws at me when my friends are mad at me. I tossed and turned, thinking about their wrath.
Then to come face-to-face with last summer’s rejection. I was over it, but he had to bring it back to the forefront. Great, now you’re going to validate the rejection again, but this time with the preface that you’re evaluating who you are as a person. You want to talk, have a conversation. Why? So you won’t have to feel uncomfortable while we’re in meetings together? You couldn’t call me last summer after you were an asshole? You couldn’t send me an email to ask how I was doing? A carrier pigeon to toss some good karma my way? I said I was ok. That I was over it. The fact is…I was.
But the circumstances I’ve found myself in at the current moment have left me vulnerable and uber-sensitive. And last night, after I wrote that post, while I sunk into my bed, I couldn’t help thinking how I’ve failed as a friend, how I’ve failed in my relationships, how I’ve succeeding in distancing people from my life.
And I think about you. You…the reader you. And how the people who read my blog or the ones who are most vocal about reading my blog…you get to read my sob stories, then go home to someone at night, wrap your arms around another as you go to sleep, have a child need you and want you and love you. I do not have that. Not at all. As much as I love my life and the people in it, I’m going to sink back into my bed tonight. Alone again.