There is nothing 'skill' about this blog. There is not a single person that reads this. It is a collection of things I want to say. And in roughly two hours, June will begin. I have waited all year for June; I love June. School's almost over, the only real work we have to do is our finals, the weather's getting nice, the Stanley Cup's winding down. Normally it's a great time. Then last year set a rather unfortunate precedent where June sucks.
True, this blog is out of loneliness and boredom. Both of my best friends just signed offline (10:08:49 then 10:10:21 ... so lonely!) But in all honesty, I just need to express some stuff that I normally wouldn't. I'm worried about June. I'm worried about my best friend's emotional state. Will she be okay? Will she be able to handle the upcoming anniversaries of the events of 2008? Normally, I'd say yes. She's strong. She handles things differently than most but overall, handles things better than most. But lately, I don't know. She's been different. I called her like a half hour ago and I could hear it in her voice that something was up. I should've put the pieces together that June was almost here but I'm selfish and was caught up in school work and my own problems. I suck. I really do. I should know better. She knew about April, my suckish month, for me. But I didn't string together today's date with her behavior. I hate me.
I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how to help her. I don't know anything, actually. Seriously, all I can think about is how much I have to cram for my English and Math final essays and how I seem to be like a robot with pieces breaking in the fact that I think my foot re-sprained and my left quadricep seems to be hurt again. Did I mention that I hate me?
What the hell am I gonna do? She seems to think she's whining. She isn't. I just want to help. I don't want her to be sad. Shit, I don't even know what I'm gonna do on the eleventh of this month. I don't think she'll even want to talk to me. I blame myself. Did you know that June eleventh of last year was my fault? Yes, it actually was. I thought I was helping. That was my intention. My intentions were of good nature, I promise. But I screwed up. I screwed up my best friends life. Aren't I just awesome? I am to blame for my best friend in the entire world's emotional trauma and all of her pain for the last year. God, I fucking hate me.
How did all of this happen, you ask? Well, for starters, I suck. That's the main reason. I tried to make everyone happy. I tried to fix the problems Sam was having. I ended up causing 10x more. How? Well, that's just the way I roll. I make things worse. I make everything worse.
Although this year and last year seemed to go extremely slow as we lived them, in hindsight, it seems like everything went ridiculously fast. Time is an illusion. Time doesn't heal everything. That's a lie. Time amplifies pain and regret and guilt. Good God, it amplifies that damn guilt.
So it's really close to June of 2009 and how do I feel? Guilty. Regretful. Saddened. Selfish. Angry. Hurt. Also I couldn't be sitting in a more awkward, uncomfortable position, icing my right foot and left thigh with the same ice pack. Ouch.
Time to start couting down moments.
Moments to June.
Wish me luck.
I'm gonna just be here for my friend, I decided.
I'm not going to try to help at all because that never ends in a positive way.
I'm just gonna be here if she needs me.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
'Just A Face In The Hall; You Used To Mean It ALL To Me."
People always talk about love. They always whine over how hard it is to be in love with someone who isn't in love with you. What I never hear is the complaints about friendship and the lack of reciprocating feelings on the subject matter of 'best friends'. Sure, the term ‘best friends’ is supposed to mean two people who have a bond stronger than friendship, pretty much a family-type relationship. It’s interesting when you’ve had a ‘best friend’ like my old one.
I’m not going to use names. I’ve learned the hard way why you never use names on the internet. The name of this person is far from important when it’s just their actions that I am trying to get across.
“After all that we’ve been through, it’s better that you’re gone.”
I met this person when I was eleven. At the time, they seemed like the perfect person. I idolized them. We soon developed a friendship like I’d never had. We were on the phone constantly. We rarely left each other’s side. I trusted them with more things that I had trusted anyone before and vise versa. In three years, everything changed.
Evidentially, I was wrong about the ‘perfect person’ thing. They were far from perfect. Deep down, I’m sure they’re a good person. I know that much for fact. They’ve lead a hard life. A very hard life. They’ve been through more than any child should. I do not use their hard life as an excuse for their actions, however.
I was twelve years old when I started to realize that things were getting weird. My friend had gotten a new boyfriend. He became what she cared about most in life. Unfortunately for me, this boyfriend was not a fan of mine. This made things difficult. Often it put my friend in a situation where she had to choose who to side with, the boyfriend or me. I don’t recall a single time where it was me that she had chosen. I soon noticed that frequently they called me for advice or seeking comfort and I dropped everything I was doing to rush to her aid, making sure to console her no matter what. I then found that she never did the same for me. On many occasions, I found myself with no one to talk to because of this. Soon she started making new friends, a few particular individuals who, much like the boyfriend didn’t take kindly to me and made it well-known. Still, she took their sides, but did it in a clever matter where she made me think she was choosing my side.
“You used to mean so much, but everything has changed. You had your chance, now watch it fade away.”
By the time I turned thirteen, I was damn near fed up. It had become abundantly clear to me that she had little interest in being my friend. But she confused me. She kept calling me her “sister”. She kept claiming that I was her best friend and that no one could replace me. This made me feel better for a while but every time I made an attempt to contact her or make plans with her, somehow they fell through and she ended up with another friend. Eventually, I became sick of this. Many a times have I confronted her. Many a times have I tried to make myself very clear yet nothing has changed.
I am fourteen years old now. It has been three years since I met this person. I have been beaten down, stomped on, flattened out and left in the dark. I have been emotionally stunted. I have been confused for too long. I’ve tried to figure it all out, make sense of what has happened but with no significant results. What the hell happened to us?
I’ll be 100% truthful here; I never wanted to lose her as a friend. I still wish that we were friends. I’m jealous of those who have taken my place. When I think about all the good times that we’ve had, it temporarily makes me forget about the awful stuff. I miss my friend all the time.
Today I told someone that I wish I had never met her when I was eleven. I honestly and completely wish I hadn’t. I wish I never met her. I wish I never knew her. I wish she moved to Nebraska when she was ten so I wouldn’t have had to bear the emotional suffering and misfortune of knowing her. Sound harsh? Maybe so.
No one in my life has ever hurt me like she’s hurt me. No one has confused me like she has. No one has ever treated me so terribly yet kept me close to them by use of false apologies and artificial kindness. I’ve never met someone who is that much of a delirious conniving sociopath that would go through best friends like water but keep one individual around them for as long as possible. And for what purpose?
Last night I had a dream. She was in this dream. She was going through an emotional trauma. It was set in current times so I was aware that we were no longer close. Still, being the loyal, pathetic person I am, I dove to her side, consoling her for what seemed like a long time. As soon as she was comforted, she left with the very friends who had hurt her because they wanted her too.The sad thing is, this is exactly what would happen in real life.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of feeling responsible. I’m sick of feeling guilty. I’m sick of feeling empathetic towards her but sorry for myself. I’m sick of the bullshit. I’m sick of the games. I’m sick of the fake apologies. I’m sick of the awkward small talk. I’m sick of the uncomfortable silences. I’m sick of her.
This is for every time you hurt my feelings and made me cry when I was still young and stupid enough to be hurt.This is for every time you defended someone over me.
This is for every time I regretted knowing you.
This is for every time a boyfriend you’ve had insulted me.
This is for every time you kissed the boy I’d liked since grade school.
This is for every time your cousins have harassed me.
This is for every text you didn’t respond to.
This is for every time I rushed to your side to comfort you.
This is for every tear shed last April.
This is for every best friend you’ve had since me.
This is for every time you’ve hurt me.
Fuck you, ‘sis’.
"The girl I knew, well, I don't even know her."
I’m not going to use names. I’ve learned the hard way why you never use names on the internet. The name of this person is far from important when it’s just their actions that I am trying to get across.
“After all that we’ve been through, it’s better that you’re gone.”
I met this person when I was eleven. At the time, they seemed like the perfect person. I idolized them. We soon developed a friendship like I’d never had. We were on the phone constantly. We rarely left each other’s side. I trusted them with more things that I had trusted anyone before and vise versa. In three years, everything changed.
Evidentially, I was wrong about the ‘perfect person’ thing. They were far from perfect. Deep down, I’m sure they’re a good person. I know that much for fact. They’ve lead a hard life. A very hard life. They’ve been through more than any child should. I do not use their hard life as an excuse for their actions, however.
I was twelve years old when I started to realize that things were getting weird. My friend had gotten a new boyfriend. He became what she cared about most in life. Unfortunately for me, this boyfriend was not a fan of mine. This made things difficult. Often it put my friend in a situation where she had to choose who to side with, the boyfriend or me. I don’t recall a single time where it was me that she had chosen. I soon noticed that frequently they called me for advice or seeking comfort and I dropped everything I was doing to rush to her aid, making sure to console her no matter what. I then found that she never did the same for me. On many occasions, I found myself with no one to talk to because of this. Soon she started making new friends, a few particular individuals who, much like the boyfriend didn’t take kindly to me and made it well-known. Still, she took their sides, but did it in a clever matter where she made me think she was choosing my side.
“You used to mean so much, but everything has changed. You had your chance, now watch it fade away.”
By the time I turned thirteen, I was damn near fed up. It had become abundantly clear to me that she had little interest in being my friend. But she confused me. She kept calling me her “sister”. She kept claiming that I was her best friend and that no one could replace me. This made me feel better for a while but every time I made an attempt to contact her or make plans with her, somehow they fell through and she ended up with another friend. Eventually, I became sick of this. Many a times have I confronted her. Many a times have I tried to make myself very clear yet nothing has changed.
I am fourteen years old now. It has been three years since I met this person. I have been beaten down, stomped on, flattened out and left in the dark. I have been emotionally stunted. I have been confused for too long. I’ve tried to figure it all out, make sense of what has happened but with no significant results. What the hell happened to us?
I’ll be 100% truthful here; I never wanted to lose her as a friend. I still wish that we were friends. I’m jealous of those who have taken my place. When I think about all the good times that we’ve had, it temporarily makes me forget about the awful stuff. I miss my friend all the time.
Today I told someone that I wish I had never met her when I was eleven. I honestly and completely wish I hadn’t. I wish I never met her. I wish I never knew her. I wish she moved to Nebraska when she was ten so I wouldn’t have had to bear the emotional suffering and misfortune of knowing her. Sound harsh? Maybe so.
No one in my life has ever hurt me like she’s hurt me. No one has confused me like she has. No one has ever treated me so terribly yet kept me close to them by use of false apologies and artificial kindness. I’ve never met someone who is that much of a delirious conniving sociopath that would go through best friends like water but keep one individual around them for as long as possible. And for what purpose?
Last night I had a dream. She was in this dream. She was going through an emotional trauma. It was set in current times so I was aware that we were no longer close. Still, being the loyal, pathetic person I am, I dove to her side, consoling her for what seemed like a long time. As soon as she was comforted, she left with the very friends who had hurt her because they wanted her too.The sad thing is, this is exactly what would happen in real life.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of feeling responsible. I’m sick of feeling guilty. I’m sick of feeling empathetic towards her but sorry for myself. I’m sick of the bullshit. I’m sick of the games. I’m sick of the fake apologies. I’m sick of the awkward small talk. I’m sick of the uncomfortable silences. I’m sick of her.
This is for every time you hurt my feelings and made me cry when I was still young and stupid enough to be hurt.This is for every time you defended someone over me.
This is for every time I regretted knowing you.
This is for every time a boyfriend you’ve had insulted me.
This is for every time you kissed the boy I’d liked since grade school.
This is for every time your cousins have harassed me.
This is for every text you didn’t respond to.
This is for every time I rushed to your side to comfort you.
This is for every tear shed last April.
This is for every best friend you’ve had since me.
This is for every time you’ve hurt me.
Fuck you, ‘sis’.
"The girl I knew, well, I don't even know her."
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