All About G

Honestly, I can’t tell which feeling is worse: being called all sorts of names, or being called all sorts of names by someone who was supposed to be your closest friend.

I’m not going to bother talking about exactly what the fight was over; that doesn’t matter. It usually doesn’t.

Her final words to me were “U are all full of urself. U only care about u and only u. You have to demand everything from everyone. Im sorry that the world dont revolve around u and im sorry that you think ur shit dont stink and im sorry that your a self centered cunt this is the worst you have ever gotten grow up and look at urself for a change ur not all that hot and not everyone wants your nasty ass sorry.”

I think more than anything, I’m furious with her. I don’t know why it took me so long to see everything. Looking back, I realized that my friendship with her wasn’t really a friendship so much as it was me bending to her every whim and letting her walk all over me. Every time she’d ask for a favor, I’d help her without hesitation. When I had first received my driver’s license, I shuttled her to and fro; so much, that my dad had to draw the line, forbidding me to be “the cab driver” for my friends. Whenever I confronted her about one thing or another, she’d turn it around on me and make it my fault for whatever it was. If I got mad at her, it was my fault.

I kind of wonder if she ever noticed when I stopped being open with my life, when I stopped telling her things. I knew that it was fruitless to try and get any kind of support from her; whenever I’d come to her seeking a comforting shoulder, her sympathy would last about five seconds before she would launch into her own world of misery and drama. I never told her how I felt that she didn’t care about me at all. Instead, I played the role of obedient friend and listened to her woes, gave her advice when I could, and backed her up with most anything.

At first, when I had received that text, it hurt. Slowly, over time, however, I’ve grown completely outraged. Not because of the text itself, because of the fact we we have known each other for nearly ten years. We were supposed to be best friends, and yet it’s like she didn’t know me at all. And maybe that’s my fault for never telling her anything. I thought she was more observant though! I can’t believe she didn’t realize that whenever I compare myself to another person, it wasn’t “I’m so much better than them.” No, it’s more like “I wish I was as good a singer as she is,” or “I’ll never be on his level at soccer,” or “Kimmie’s boobs are bigger than mine,” or “I can’t get myself to look more adult like Kasedy can” or, “I’m not as good as this person” or “I wish I was more like this person”. Hell, I didn’t even need to compare myself! “I hate the way my legs look,” “My hair’s too frizzy,” “I suck at this and that”, “I can’t do anything right!”

I wish I was prettier. I wish I was smarter. I wish I could compete on their level.

How? How is that egoistical? How am I being full of myself?!

It was the “you’re selfish and no one wants you” thing that really got to me. I’m selfish, yet I put aside my own happiness and quietly suffer, just so I could focus more attention on you? I got into trouble with my dad numerous times over the car, because I would lie and use it for taking you places instead of wherever I said I was going. I stopped bothering going to you for consoling; instead I bottled up my pain so I could try and heal yours. I would give you all kinds of advice, I listened to every one of your problems. I comforted you when you needed a shoulder to cry on. I kept every last one of your secrets (though I can’t say the same for you and my secrets, thanks for nothing), and I will keep them till the day I die. For God’s sake, Kasedy, I stood by and said nothing, NOTHING, when you and Steve were dating behind your mom’s back, and hung out at my house! In front of me, where all I could do was just watch you and the guy I liked hang all over each other and kiss each other and tell each other how much you cared. And I hated you for it, but I still didn’t say anything, because you were supposed to be my best friend. I cared about you and wanted you to be happy because you were someone important to me, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness. And all that, all of my unwavering loyalty, to the point of allowing you to treat me like shit, makes me selfish? So what is it, I wonder, that I’m supposed to do to make you take that back. Shall I kill myself? Take a bullet meant for you? Am I supposed to just shut up and be your slave? Treat you like the queen of the world?!

And you know, the thing that was drilled into my skull the most during that high school drama? Yea, it was “Nobody’s going to side with you, because nobody cares about you.”

So thanks, Kas. Thanks for telling me how you’ve felt over all these years. I should’ve realized it sooner, since it’s what you say every time we fight. I can’t believe I was so stupid and naive and thought you, of all people, could be considered a friend, you know, someone I could rely on and trust. I can’t believe I wasted so much of my life being your bitch, babying you and taking care of you and making sure that the world paid attention to you, because you’re SO worth it, right? I can’t believe I LET myself give you chance after chance after chance, ever when it was obvious that it wasn’t worth it.

I’m even more angry with myself, for being afraid to ditch you, because I didn’t talk to or hang out with my other friends all that much. I was afraid of rejection, and sometimes, I still am. I even let your words get to me! “Do they really care about me?” I’ve always pondered this, ever since I ditched my so-called “friends,” and made real friends. Logical me knows that they (meaning my present friends) do, but the rest of me, the loser, insecure me stoops so low as to question it. Because of what happened in high school. And now, because of you.

So here, I’ll be so kind as to do you a favor. Since I’m such a narcissistic bitch, how about I just cut you out of my life for good? Besides that, you’re a waste of my time. I’m better than that. Good luck with that baby, I’m sure you can find one of your friends to help take care of it (or take care of it for you, since I can’t fathom you being a RESPONSIBLE HUMAN BEING). And I’d wish you luck with the rest of your life, but I’m pretty sure that even my blessing wouldn’t be enough. Was that self-centered enough for you, or should I try harder? You’ll have to let me know, KASEDY, since I don’t know if I’M MEETING YOUR FUCKING EXPECTATIONS!!!

Comments (2) Feb 11 2010

I would actually go into a full fledged post about how life is going, but since my brain melted out of my skull around Tuesday, I’ll be unable to do such a thing.

I’ve pretty much lost the ability to think. I’m almost looking forward to going home. And I’d actually be looking for it if it weren’t for the fact that I’ll be working. Lame! Who ever heard of me having a REAL break? I know I sure as hell didn’t!

There’s a knot in my neck the width of my thumb. It starts at the base of my skull and it goes down to my scapula. I think I need to see a massage therapist.

Everything is riding on my Advanced P and C final on Tuesday. Else I’m pretty much fucked. I hate life.

Some relatively good news: All my personal essay papers came back with A’s, and this final paper of mine is coming along nicely. I’ll post up download links to them so if you want to read them you can, and if you don’t want to read them, you can stfu and not bitch that I posted them anyway.

… I actually had a lot more to talk about. Unfortunately, I completely forgot all of it. So, I suppose I’ll try to keep you posted.

Comments (4) Dec 10 2009

You would think, since my 20th birthday was this past Saturday, and today is Thanksgiving (I write this 7 minutes past midnight) that I would have at least some thing to tell you guys. I mean, it’s been nearly a month (and I’m really sorry for not keeping you all posted).

My 20th birthday was spent upstairs fucking around on Kimmie’s computer, and eating birthday pie (because I can’t stand the texture of cake). Presents couldn’t be afforded (though I got a candy bar from Kas, so I guess it’s something), though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything; after all, Mom told me to not expect anything come Christmas, a month later.

I got paid on Wednesday (yesterday, technically), and half of it went to my credit card, a shirt, and some neccesities. On Friday, I hope to get a new pair of boots, but I’m not really expecting much there either because I have approximately $40 in my account, and unless the boots I saw were discounted further, I won’t be able to afford them, though I need a new pair.

I helped Mom with baking a couple of pies just now. Two pumpkin and an apple. I think I might be helping with the turkey, but I don’t know. I suppose I ought to be feeling that ol’ holiday cheer, like I do every year, but I just don’t feel anything.

… Check that. I feel completely and totally furious because I deleted the texts I sent myself and INTENDED to fucking save. It figures. I just don’t fucking care anymore.

Hopefully I’ll be in a better mood when I wake up in the morning.

I suppose the only good new that comes out of this post is I’m a year loser to death. Whoopie. I’d wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, but it wouldn’t be coming from the heart. So I’ll try to update tomorrow after the festivities are over. I just hope I won’t be feeling so shitty by then. In the meantime, I’m going to attempt to remember that fucking text I deleted (I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed off I am about that).

Comments (1) Nov 26 2009

I’m tired. Too tired to give you a real update.

My feet hurt, my knees hurt. I’m so tired I almost feel like I’m high. My body just feels like a sack of lead. My head feels like it weighs a ton. My eyes feel like they’re bloodshot; they probably look bloodshot too.

My head is buzzing like it usually does when I’m depressed. My eyes keep unfocusing. And I’m not even done with all the shit I need to do.

I’m tired. I’m sad. I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to go home where I can rest. Rest and not have to worry about turning in this paper on time, or finishing those four assignments before going to work, or covering someone’s shifts without taking away too much homework time, or gaining the motivation to do any of this stuff, or budgeting my time so that I have time in the first place.

I don’t really care that I have about two weeks left. I’m ready to be done and away from here. I want to come home.

Comments (1) Apr 25 2009

I meant to post this the same day as my heads up post, but I was too tired to.

I’ve been too tired to feel like doing much of anything. I’ve barely got the motivation to do any work (and ironically, I still faithfully attend each class). I feel like I haven’t had a real break since the summer after I graduated. And I suppose that is true; there was my 07-08 academic year, and the summer between freshman and sophomore year I took classes all the way until late July. I didn’t do anything school related for only a month, and then I came back for my 2nd year here. Three weeks is a break, but three months honestly makes all the difference.

I know spring break is only, what, 2 days away and all, but I feel like I’m not going to be able to really catch up on rest until summer. Hopefully I won’t be too busy. This next week, I’ll probably be doing a lot of snoozing… Of course, knowing how Kasedy likes to spend every waking minute with me, or at least, as much as she can (even though we both agreed that we’re drifting apart), I have the feeling I won’t be getting as much sleep as I expect to (and that may be a better thing, who knows).

Comments (0) Mar 04 2009