Sometimes I feel like people just really want me to hate them; or at least dislike them. I'm serious. And what's worse is sometimes those people are actually my friends. Although, the term "friend" may be switched to one with less of a...binding definition due to selfishness and worry for everyone but me.
I say that I had a really weird experience today to friend...let's call them Friend A. I tell Friend A that a bunch of different things happened while I was with friend B and that I talked to Friend C about them because they inadvertently involved Friend C. The following is an accurate description of where the conversation went:
Friend A: Is [Friend C] ok?
Me: Yeah, [Friend C] wasn't the one who had to deal with [Friend B].
Friend A: What do you mean?
Me: I talked to [Friend B] today, [Friend C] didn't.
Friend A: .....Ok. [Friend C] is ok though? We haven't talked today.
Does anyone else see the problem here, or is that just me? If I'm the one having to deal with the situation, shouldn't SOMEONE be worrying if I'M okay?
And now that I'm done venting, I'm going to eat my Keebler Cheesecake Middles cookies, drink some juice, and watch bad 90's TV.
............
Of course, now that I've said that, Friend A (who I'm still fairly pissed at) is asking if the situation was awkward for me, etc. I'm astounded by people's idiocy sometimes.
I know that I'm being really needy and selfish, but I don't handle certain situations well. Especially ones which remind me of home and my relationship with my dad. He has really bad anger issues. Really bad. So it's a bit of an understatement to say that I wasn't feeling all that great after being forcibly reminded about all the drama I'm escaping by not being at home, and I feel I have at least a small right to be needy and want someone to actually care how I'm feeling without my having to spell it out for them first.
It seems like none--or at least VERY few--of my friends even try to get past the walls I throw up when I'm not comfortable. Half the time, I don't think they even try to see if the walls are up, if I'm in what one really close friend has dubbed my "zombie mode"; instead, people just assume I'm not going to want to talk about what's on my mind or try to get at the heart of an issue. I guess it's just easier to go straight to what other people are dealing with, especially if A used to B (and pretty much still is) extremely into C.
Why is it so damn hard for someone to care about me? Am I just that hard to get to know, to care for, that people just stopped trying after awhile? I hadn't thought that I was quite that awful, but hey, all my ex boyfriends thought so. I mean, none of them really liked me for anything but my body.
Maybe I was right earlier when I said my job was just to stand here and look pretty. Means I don't have to feel, or at least only feel what is necessary for certain circumstances. Maybe I've had it wrong lately; maybe who I used to be wasn't so bad. The old me didn't really want people to be worried about her, she just wanted people to like her.
Then again, the old me was a bit of a whore. And I'm not particularly keen on that aspect of my old life.
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