- (no subject)
- August 15th, 2010
Today, while returning home from necessary shoppings, I sat in my car in front of my apartment and cried. I blame this on my stupid radio and stupid Amanda Palmer, for writing a song with the lyrics "just because they call themselves friends doesn't mean they'll call", a song I first heard when I was very lonely and having a very hard time reconciling my and my tiny number of friends' definition of friendship.
It made me cry today for a few reasons. One, apparently I'm just weepy. Nearly bawled when Wake Up started playing over the grocery PA yesterday. Two, remembering what those days felt like for me, and how really, the resolution to the problem was to simply accept that what I needed from those friends I wasn't ever going to get (a hardly satisfactory conclusion). And three, knowing how things are different now.
Gratefully I find it hard to not be busy during the week. I have trips to look forward to, and activities that extend beyond the surface level enjoyment of a bunch of friendly acquaintances. I have had meaningful conversations, bonding, relating to other people. I see people, I communicate, I am asked to be involved and contribute. To be more than a spectator.
This is what I need. To feel like I have people that want me around enough to be the friends that call. (or text, or tweet, or whatever.) I am a weepy, sad excuse for a human tonight, but I am excessively happy that the reason for this has nothing to do with being alone, with being bored, or with hating myself for my inadequacies (including the low self esteem feeding into this pitiful loathing in the first place). I'm glad I can easily blame this on PMS. I can write it off because I know that things are good now.
My presence would be noticed if gone, and that makes a big difference.
I will also blame tonight's unnecessary introspection on PMS. Ha! Take that overies! You suck.