2004-01-17 - 3:53 a.m.
dear diary,
meh. i did a dumb thing and read her diary out of nostalgia and had the inevitable delight of reading about myself from someone else's point of view. not a nice one either.
so now i have to sit here and think about this. because i haven't really let myself think about this before.
i guess i've always felt sort of apathetic about the whole entire "best friend moves across the country to live near me and inevitably leaves without saying hi or goodbye" thing.
while she was here, there were things that felt inherently wrong, not situational like a television sitcom, but things i couldn't fix, alter, and had a hard time practicing sensitivity with.
the way she uses food and people and alcohol and music and intellectualism as this safety cocoon that stops her from ever having to deal with realities. the parts of her that were so severe and borderline handicapped in everyday living. like, taking showers daily. doing laundry, cleaning up, getting out of bed, changing your clothes. it wasn't even [just] the physical stuff, but the emotional propensity that stopped us from having "real" moments.
it was like living with a shell of a person, and then reading her diary full of emotional-isms that i never got to see on the day to day basis. i felt cheated almost. i felt responsible for her unhappiness, which started the minute she moved her - contrary to what would've been intentional pain i caused her.
which of course was never intentional. i guess i feel bad for her, but not enough that i could change who i am or how i live to adjust to that. i don't have that capacity anymore, to just give and give to emotional users.
everything works with pinpointed moments to her, rarely are they a conjective view of the whole or big picture. she was intensely private and her emotional dependency on me to make things ok for her doesn't feel fair.
well yakkety yak, i can't do anything about that. i tried to get her to assimilate, but it never took. it wasn't an upended ending, but it was definitely an ending. i guess what bothers me the most is having to feel like i had some responsibility.
which of course i did, a phone works both ways. but the amount of energy it took to make three months of her day in and day out drained me for months following.
i thought for a long time that maybe i just wasn't cut out to make or keep girl friends. maybe it is all me. maybe i'm just a scathingly cutting and horrible person. is it wrong to admit that i don't have the emotional propensity to take care of people anymore? does that make me a bad person?
i guess i do feel bad now, something i didn't feel before. but when i compare it to justin living with us, the differences are easier to see i think.
justin had goals in mind to go on living. he was quick with the money for rent or dinner or whatever, just to thank us for letting him stay with us. i never had to think about what was fair financially, he just chipped in freely. i never had to ask him for money. i never had to feel like i owed him because i paid for dinner one night or etc. he did the dishes almost every single day. he took up chores on his own accord and made a point of giving me a hug or a joke to brighten my day. he made a point of not "being in the way" and maybe what i appreciated was his humbleness or his thanks.
i never felt that from her. i would dread coming home to her depression or knowing i would have to clean the shower or the tub instead of reading a book or hell, even having to answer to looks or comments about what i was reading. what i was listening to. what were going to do that night.
i generally just chalked it up to differences in personalities and kind of walked away from it without any emotional remembering, but maybe that was just my way of dealing with it. it must have been incredibly hard for her. i truly feel bad about that. but i refuse to take responsibility for that.
when i start to miss her on nights like tonight, it's easier for me to understand that i miss the idea of her more than i actually miss her. i miss the idea of having a friend that knows my history, and is around for me to catch up with whenever, or talk to about music or books or movies. but, i do have that. i have that in other people.
it feels weird, maybe a little disconcerting to know that someone hates me, and blames me for huge chunks of sadness in their life. that really does make me sad.
i guess the consolation is that i don't feel angry, or blame her for undue sadness on my part. i think that in itself acts as the ultimate conveyer of the different places we're in, have been, were probably always in, and will probably always be in.
my hope for her... i've had to retype this a few times. i don't know what my hope for her is. i hope that one day she understands what this mess was really about. i guess i hope that for myself because i really don't know what it was all about. i hope that figures herself out so fully someday and has the will and strength to make the changes necessary in order to find herself some happiness. i think she's on the road to that. i would like to see the best for her.
i guess i still feel confused and a little hurt, maybe a little pissy even. i don't know how to dissect this any other way, but it sure sucks when your sanity, personality, and emotionality is called into question.
however, there is nowhere to move but up and forward. so, i do.