Perpetual Smile

I wish the holidays were over already. Aside from being super stressed out about projects for clients, and worrying like crazy about Popi, I’m now barely going to see Mike on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

In years past, Toys R Us closed at like 6 on Christmas Eve and wasn’t open at all on Christmas Day. This year, they’re still closed on Christmas Day, but they’re open until 8 on Christmas Eve. Scratch that, as of today; Corporate sent an email at the last possible fucking minute and told everyone that they’d be open until 9.

What. The. Fuck.

Why does this matter?

Let me back up. Initially, Mike was scheduled until 8. He was trying to find someone to switch with so he could come over my house and have dinner with Noni, Popi, Biz Noni, Mom, Dad, Lauren, Aunt Wendy, Uncle Lonny, and I, but couldn’t, so he was going to see if he could just leave early because they will probably be dead. Now that they’re going to be open until 9, his boss asked him to stay until they close.

And he agreed.

Trust me when I say he already knows how pissed I am about this.

I understand why he’s doing it. Right now, he’s on great terms with his boss and the district manager, and he really wants to keep those relationships positive in case any higher positions open up. I get that. But still, I had a perfect picture of how Christmas would go, and now it’s just not going to be like that. I can’t help but be selfish and want to have things go my way. So much has not gone my way these last couple of years: my own health, my grandfather’s health, my living situation… I know I should just shut the fuck up and be grateful for what I’ve got. I know that. So many other people have it worse. It just feels like I’ve had a shitty line of luck lately and I guess I was depending on the holidays to be perfect so it could all be better.

To make things worse, I have a huge project deadline for the end of the month that can bleed into the first week of January because of some crazy server issues, but the deadline is making me nauseous because with all of the holiday shit going on, I have barely had time to work on it. Add a whole lot of lack of motivation, and I’m pretty fucked. Fuck you, depression. You’re such a greedy asshole.

So it’s no wonder that I’ve (sort of) picked up smoking again. I made sure not to buy myself a lighter tonight when I picked up a pack of Marlboro Lights. I’ve only had one so far. I don’t feel like I need one now, which is good, I guess. Right now, it’s either smoke or kill someone. Or run away to Florida.

It’s hard to get in the holiday spirit when so much shit is all fucked up. I miss being a little kid, and having only one worry this time of year: Santa not knowing that I really want a Gigapet, or whatever toy. (One year, I asked him every night before bed during this season to bring me a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup. No lie. My love of Reeses started early.)

This year, Santa, all I want is to feel better. Actually, scratch that. I just want everything to go back to the way it was in mid November, when everything was better. When Daddy didn’t lash out every five seconds because he is hurting so badly inside. When I would go to the Barnes and Noble Cafe every afternoon to write with a Pumpkin Spice Latte at my side. When we looked forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas, not a care in the world. When I thought Popi might just have arthritis or a sciatic nerve problem, or something FIXABLE, dammit.

Right now, it feels like nothing in my life is fixable. I feel like I have no friends. I feel like I can’t rant too much to Mike because he is already stressed out enough and I know that by whining that he has to work late tomorrow night, I’m only making it worse. I feel like I have to walk on eggshells around my whole family, because I don’t want to say out loud that shit, I don’t believe in god so I have no fucking clue where my grandfather is going to go when he dies.

Fuck.

There it is, guys. There it fucking is.

I have had many best friends.

The first was Emily, in kindergarten. We talked on the phone.

The second was Elizabeth, in second grade. Then I met Jackie, Desi, and Miranda, and in third grade the four of us were sort of inseparable.

In fourth grade, I met Vanessa. We were best friends all the way up until 8th grade. Even when she moved to Panama during our 5th and 6th grade years, we still kept in touch, and when she came back to Connecticut, we continued to stay in touch. We were best friends again in 8th grade, but lost touch during high school.

The summer before 8th grade, it was Leugim.

During 8th grade, it was me, Vanessa, Jessica, Reshma, and Sandra.

My freshman year of high school, it was Lauren and Ryan, interchangeably. When sophomore year came, I met Sandy. We were best friends up until maybe a year or so ago.

Now I consider the cat my best friend. Or Mike, depending on how the day is going.

I scroll through Facebook status updates and Facebook pages, read old journal and blog entries, cycle through memories. Each of these people were once a huge part of my life, but they aren’t anymore. And I don’t get it.

I don’t get why I can’t seem to hold on to anyone that I care about. I don’t get why the relationships I think are precious to me end up not being precious to the other person. I don’t get why distance, time, and differences ebb away the closeness that once was. I don’t get the petty backstabbing. I don’t get why I move through life like a ghost, passing by people but never sticking to them. I once thought that it wasn’t me, that it was them, but maybe it really is me.

I think about inviting these old friends out for a cup of coffee or some lunch. I can see us sitting at a table, catching up, sharing the years that passed without a word over an hour or so. A simple message over Facebook could arrange this. But then I hesitate. What if we don’t have anything in common anymore? Or even worse: what if they say no?

Then the moment passes and I feel like an idiot. Normal people don’t cling to the past. Normal people move on through the future. Normal people make new friends.

I am not normal. I don’t make friends. Everyone I ever knew or cared about just drifts away. And I find that I have to look at myself, very closely. I once thought I was a good person, that I was a great friend — the kind who would bend over backward for my friends. I thought that I was fun to hang out with, that I was interesting enough to keep around.

More and more, I feel like a hermit. I fear that I will be alone. I fear that these friends from the past don’t think of me anymore. Maybe I meant nothing to them. Maybe I will never mean anything again.

Is this normal? Or should I just suck it up?

Read my Batman/Harley fan fiction! Harley Quinn decides she’s tired of Joker’s bullshit and decides to take revenge…

I rarely use my MySpace account any more. I logged in tonight because I checked my email like a good working girl and saw that I had a tagged photo and a tagged photo comment, blah blah blah. I also had a message:

I give up

I didn’t reply to it, because it was an awfully immature message. Rather than trying to address the problem head on, you chose to send a message in an attempt to make it look like it was all my fault.

Yes, “Jude,” I stopped talking to you. Not because I am a bad person. Not because I am spiteful or immature. I stopped talking to you because, time and time again, you lied to me. You may think you treasure the friendship we had, but your actions showed otherwise. So, instead of wasting my time, energy, and peace of mind, I stopped talking to you.

We’ve been through this all before. It’s always the same: You get yourself into trouble; I try to be a good friend and help you out; you lash out at me; I withdraw and regroup; you lie to me; I walk way; you send me text messages, social media comments, and leave me voicemails pretending as if everything is okay; I start to miss you and call you back; rinse and repeat.

Not this time. I just can’t anymore. I cannot continue to exhaust myself on you. I cannot continue to give you everything and get absolutely nothing back. Under normal circumstances, I don’t mind. I think I’m a pretty damn good friend. Maybe I’m too loyal. I’ve realized that in trying to help you, I’ve only been hurting myself. And I’m not doing it anymore.

I hope to god you find a way to keep from down (Blue October, “Been Down”)

When someone lies to you once and you believe them, they’re an asshole.

When this person tells you that their new train wreckboyfriend has been clean for a year and tells your mutual friend that this new train wreckboyfriend has been clean for two weeks, they’re the asshole. Not you.

When this person lies to you about this new train wreck’sboyfriend’s job and tells you that he works as a carpenter and makes a lot of money, when in reality the new train wreckboyfriend lost his job because he is a train wreck and only does odd jobs for his grandma and is living off of this person (who happens to be a single mother), this person is still an asshole, but the new train wreckboyfriend is the bigger asshole.

When this person lies left and right about all things related to their new train wreckboyfriend, and things in their own life that this new train wreckboyfriend now controls, you get worried. You want to help this so-called friend, but they won’t stop lying to you.

When this person has lied to you for the hundredth time about their relationship status with the new train wreckboyfriend, and you believe them every time, you’re the asshole.

There are only so many times that you can lie to yourself about someone who obviously doesn’t care about you — or themselves — very much. And there are only so many times before you decide that you’re just not going to waste your time anymore.

Good luck, “Jude.”

Every time I go to write a new post, I end up writing about something I don’t want to write about, because I don’t want to write about what I actually want to write about. With me? Great.

I spent the last two weeks sort of reevaluating my life. I thought about my relationships with other people, my career, my goals, and blahblahblah (all one word, ’cause that’s how I actually say it). The only thing that I actually figured out was my current job situation. I didn’t make any decisions on the other things that are bothering me. I obviously can’t do anything about the things I can’t control, but it still sucks because waiting is not on my list of skills.

I did decide to stop letting everyone use me, and even though I do mean to stick to that, it’s hard. It was especially hard yesterday when someone who basically ditched me for the last couple of weeks suddenly called and wanted my sympathy (and possibly my help; I didn’t answer the phone).

I just can’t keep giving everything and getting nothing in return. I can’t live in a cesspool of drama and constant emergencies that I always feel obligated to help out with. The truth is, I don’t owe any of these people anything, because they never gave me anything to begin with. Sure, we had some good times (Rock Band marathons, trips to the mall for no reason, spontaneous trips to the bar, movie nights, and all that good stuff), but when it actually counted, none of these people — and by none I mean neither, ha ha ha — could give me any of their time.

So, although a part of me wants to return that phone call, I refuse to get suckered in again. I hope that both of these people end up getting their shit together, but I’m not going to stick around to find out.

I have to be a hardass about this because otherwise I’m only going to keep getting hurt.

Anyway. Now that that’s over with, we can get to the good stuff:

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and a couple of other posts this week really got me going.

I’m tired of being everyone’s shoulder to cry on. I’m tired of being taken for granted. I’m tired of giving my all and getting nothing in return.

I have tried, several times during the last few weeks, to reach out to more than one friend because I needed someone to talk to or an escape. None of these people could give me the time of day, when I’ve been there for them on more than several occasions. They couldn’t be bothered when I’ve dropped everything time and again to give them a hand.

I kept holding on to the hope that these people would wake up and start treating me like a person again. I’ve been that teddy bear that a preteen drags out only when they need it and no one is looking.

No more.

I’m taking my soft, fuzzy self to the nearest Build-A-Bear shop and I’m getting my bleeding heart replaced with some balls of steel. And while I’m at it, I’m going to pick up some Watchmen action figures.

Apparently “Jude” didn’t call me back because she drank too much and “Zeppelin” couldn’t pick me up anyway. At first I was kind of annoyed, but really, did I expect any less? I’ve come to the conclusion that in order to be friends with her, I’m going to have to deal with the way she is. I mean, I called her tonight with the intention of telling her how stressed I am, but we mostly talked about her problems. I have to either accept that this is who she is, or move on. There’s no point in talking to her about it; I’ve tried that time and time again — and of course made a big statement more recently by not talking to her at all — but it obviously doesn’t work. I love her kids like they were my own and I love her like a sister, even if that is the craziest thing in the world. A lot of people don’t understand why I’m still her friend. Sometimes, I don’t understand it either.

Anyway, have you ever noticed it’s impossible to raid the fridge after midnight and not make a lot of noise? Maybe it’s me.

After bringing Mike something to eat — he’s still working third shift — I took a shower and then proceeded to find something to snack on while I work on my Visual Basic assignments. I did really well getting the tortilla chips and salsa. I was feeling kind of proud of myself for not waking anyone up, until I went to make some Kool-Aid. I needed ice and there were two left in the tray. When I went to grab an ice cube and drop it in my water bottle, whatever is wrong with my limbs refused to cooperate and my fingers dropped the ice cube. It hit the floor with the loudest noise ever — I didn’t think ice could be that loud. I glanced at my grandparents (their room is connected to the kitchen), and Noni rolled over, glanced into the kitchen, then rolled over again and went back to sleep.

Speaking of class — yes, this post is all over the place — I got my grades for my Painting I and Crafts classes. I managed A’s in both, even though the Crafts class was a lot of work and I lost a lot of points for trivial things. Still, I survived it and did pretty well.

I should probably go do my Visual Basic labs now.

I feel like I’m at the mercy of some unseen force right now. I swear someone is using a voodoo doll on me.

Saturday night as I got home from my little cousin’s birthday party, I got some super sharp and stabbing pains in my left shoulder. They were in the same spot and only lasted a second or two, but were enough to make me scream, cry, and made my knees buckle. I went to see my new GP on Friday and the nurse practitioner there said she would set me up an appointment with a neurologist. I assumed they’d call me with an appointment later on Friday, but they didn’t. Hopefully they’ll call me Monday, because I can’t take much more of this. I want answers and treatment and relief, and I want it NOW. I am going out of my mind. I’m afraid to do anything or go out in public; can you imagine collapsing on the street or screaming in the middle of the mall? I mean, this is just getting ridiculous. Something is wrong and someone needs to help me before it gets any worse.

I’m also waiting on my college to get back to me. The math/science director still hasn’t responded to my second email, and I won’t get anything until at least Monday. I think my next step should be the Dean; I mean, it was not my mistake and I refuse to pay for the mistake of someone who gets paid to advise students. He obviously gave me the wrong advice, so why do I have to put everything on hold?

Worst of all, Mike is still working third shift. We were supposed to hang out Thursday night (because he was actually off!), but he ended up sleeping through the alarm he’d set and didn’t wake up until one in the morning. He felt bad and I felt bad, but now he won’t be off again until next Thursday. I miss him like crazy and all I want to do right now is drive down there and bang on the doors until they let me in. Then I’d kidnap him and steal him away so that I can be selfish and snuggle in his arms until we wake up. I know he misses me too but somewhere along the line I became sentimental and now I feel like I’m gonna die if I don’t get to see him soon. What happened to the hardass version of me, the one who spat at the very mention of love? Oh. Right. She was one bitter bitch.

On top of everything else, “Jude” invited me to hang out tonight — uh, Saturday night, technically. She was going to have “Zeppelin” come get me, and since I was feeling sorry for myself (because of the Chronic Arm Pains 4.0) I said maybe I shouldn’t. She said she really wanted me to come, and then when said she’d call me back in a few minutes. I assumed she was going to ask “Zeppelin” if she minded picking me up, and that since she wanted me to come over and hang out so bad she’d call me back and make sure I hadn’t changed my mind, but she never called me back. I know I can’t make her give a fuck but really. She knew I wasn’t feeling good — I burst into tears the second she said “hello” when I called her — and yet she still couldn’t be bothered to call me back. This is the shit that makes me want to tell her to have a nice life. When I need her, she never comes through. And yet, when she needs me I am always there.

I love her kids to death and even though I know she’ll pull the You Can’t See the Kids card if I try to stop being friends with her again, I don’t know what else to do. Every time we go through this, she promises to try harder and blahblahblah, but it never happens. We always end up at the same place. She claims that she cares but when it comes down to showing me she cares, she just can’t do it. There’s always something more important.

Anyway, it’s almost 3 am and my arms are killing me. I knew I’d pay for this but I needed to get shit off my chest.

After several weeks and a lot of thinking, I called “Jude” last night and left her a voicemail. “If you want to talk, call me back.” I didn’t expect her to call me back, but she did. Her voicemail was a lot warmer than mine had been. She said to call her back after ten, when she got out of work. I worked on my paper mache for my crafts class until 10:15 and called her back.

“Okay. I don’t hate you. I do care about you, and of course I care about the kids. I just feel like you don’t give me as much as I give you,” I said, tapping ash from my cigarette into my too small ashtray. (I really wish I hadn’t thrown out the bigger one when I went on my “I’m going to quit smoking!” binge. Sigh.) Read the rest of this entry »

None of this is ever going to be resolved if no one is going to be honest with each other or themselves. I am tired of all of this whispery, kindergarten stuff. I am tired of no one being willing to just say what is on their minds or to admit that they’ve been wrong. It doesn’t even really frustrate me anymore. It just sucks all of my energy.

“Jude” doesn’t seem to realize that she’s done anything wrong even though I have told her time after time what my problem is with her, but none of it seems to be sinking in. She blows me off left and right for “Tommy.” She doesn’t ever listen to my problems. She has started hanging out with a bad crowd. I’ve discussed these things with her over and over. Most recently, “Zeppelin” and I picked her up and were halfway out of town to go to Big Y and Blockbuster when she made us turn around and bring her home so she could attend to “Tommy,” who didn’t want to sit around by himself with her father while she went out with her friends. But this is nothing new.

Every time I try to point these things out to her, she acts as if I’m also partially at fault. She acts as if she has only blown me off once, and acts as if I’m always too busy for her. I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to tell her how she was treating me like shit. She didn’t listen. I decided to distance myself and when she finally got the hint she pulled guilt trips. She still failed to see what she had done wrong.

Worse, “Zeppelin” is letting “Jude” think that she’s not hanging out with her until “Jude” and I make up, when in reality “Zeppelin” is just as exhausted as I am. “Zep” is just as overwhelmed as I am with school, work and other stuff, so I can almost understand. She would just rather be dishonest with “Jude” and clear up everything later, while I’d rather be honest and maybe clear things up later.

I wrote pages and pages of a letter to “Jude” the other night, spelling everything out for her. I told her exactly why I can’t be friends with her anymore and how frustrating it is that she seems to not know why I’ve stopped talking to her. The truth is, there is only so much shit one person can take. There are only so many times I can just sit back and let someone stomp all over me, not showing up for plans made ahead of time or ditching me just when things are getting good. There is only so much advice I can give when someone I care about is doing something wrong and doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. I think, in all honesty, she knows everything that she is doing and has done. I think she just doesn’t want to admit it, because she would rather put the blame on someone else than see herself for what she truly is.

I am not saying that she’s entirely bad, because there have been many times when we had fun or she was there for me. It’s just not enough, when you compare how much I have given her. It’s not enough when she sends me text messages that say “I miss you” or promises to take me to a movie I don’t want to see to make up for her blowing me off. It’s especially not enough when she doesn’t even apologize for what she does.

So I am not sure what I am going to do. I don’t want to lose KTC or KRB (she’s also decided to use them against me and doesn’t want me at KRB’s birthday party next weekend). She left me a voicemail Saturday afternoon wanting to talk, but I don’t really know if I want to talk to her. I’ve got so many other things on my plate and am just so overwhelmed that I just don’t want to deal with any of this right now.