Well today's been a fun one. I stayed home today because evidently karma comes in the form of mind-numbing cramps and a killer quatricep (talk about cruel-and-unusual punishment, Gods of the Universe. And I know that my gym teacher said that 'light-exercise' is a natural cure for cramps but at one point it was so bad that I wouldn't have gotten up if Adrian Pasdar was naked on my couch. So take that, gym teacher.) But I figure it was good that I stayed home because I was probably the most exhausted I've ever been in my entire life from pulling an all-nighter. Sure, I blame most of my sleeplessness on the pain but probably it was because I had gotten off the phone 1AM after a rather emotional conversation.
I assumed the roll. I've always been that kid who everyone goes to. I carry everyone's problems, I try to help them solve them. I want to save the world rather than save myself and deal with my own stuff. Sure, it's difficult. Sometimes it gets overwhelming, trying to help everyone. I don't fault my friends for this. Especially my two best friends. I want to hear their problems, I do. I want to help them. But keeping all my stuff inside, well, eventually it starts to eat away at my soul.
But getting back to last night.
I don't know what happened, exactly. Somehow the conversation topic came up of how Sam believes that she's 'whining' (bull) and doesn't want to 'make me listen to her problems anymore' (bull x2). Then she voiced her wonder on why I never discuss my problems. Unsure of how to answer this, I tried keeping it simple and saying that I don't want to process my stuff out loud nor do I want anyone to bear the burden of my issues. This answer did not satisfy dear Samantha, though, who repeatedly reassured me that not only was it not a burden but I should just tell her things more often. Simply, my friend wanted me to open up, a reasonable request seeing as we spent most of our phone-time dealing with her emotions and problems. This, however, remains one of my weak spots.
She managed to talk me into letting my guard down. I don't know how she did it but she did. I eased up for a moment and allowed myself to confess the extreme guilt that I have lived with since 6/11/08. I regretted this pretty much instantly. Okay, so I didn't want my friend to know that I blamed myself. Who would? Sam's the kind of friend who doesn't let you feel bad about things and becomes empathetic easily.
So when did I lose all my dignity and become a whiny little infant? About halfway into explaining myself and my guilt, I realized that it had become a lot more emotional than I thought. I don't know what happened. My guess would be that I had never really thought about or talked about my feelings on the subject that in-depth before. I had never even said it out loud, especially not to Sam. I was looking at my dresser when I felt my eyes tearing and I decided that stopping talking (literally, mid-sentence) and buried my face in my pillow.
Sam knows me better than almost anyone does. We've become so close (and purely phone-dependant) that we can actually hear emotional distress in our tone of voice. There was no way Sam couldn't tell that I had started to cry. Sure, I'm freaking ashamed that I lost control but I didn't mind as much because Sam's my best friend. I've become awfully good at hiding my emotions when I talk but only a moron couldn't tell how bad I was feeling. This is why I don't discuss my emotions; once the flood gates are open, it's hard to go back.
So, for now, it's whatever. I feel bad, still. I'm going to go lay down now because I still feel like dying. Only 29 days of June left.
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