You should know that I’m crazy. Really certified crazy.
My thought patterns make perfect logical sense to me most of the time, but it
won’t make sense to you. When one of those moments come around don’t push
yourself to the end of your chair, toss food at the screen or yell about my
stupidity. Actually go ahead and do all of that because I would never stop
myself doing that to you. But hey, I’m many manners of crazy.
Right now I don’t really understand why anyone needs
friends. I mean I have friends, i make them and lose them, often in swift
succession. But right now it feels like the only reason I have them is just to
have someone confirm my place in the world and justify my right to be in public.
Does anyone else feel like they shouldn’t be in public alone unless they’re on
the way to meet someone? You can’t go to the museum, or the cinema, or shopping
alone... except if you’re a mother for some reason. Why do I need that armour?
Why do I dance down a street pointing at the person walking next to me as if to
say “Look look, this person accepted me therefore I’m normal.”
Around the same time that I was watching Gossip Girl (I
totally read the books first) I became a centre of buzzing eager manipulation
and control. School was a war and my friends were mercenaries and not
soldiers. And Gods the drama you can
painstakingly brush layer by layer onto the canvas of your life when you have
half a mind to! I could have described every colour and texture and why it was
placed there in agonising detail because it all just seemed so important, so vital.
I’ve learned that the motives of the people around me were ones I decided were
inside them. The lack of loyalty and extent of manipulation inside them was all
a reflection of me. It turns out that no one else was smart enough to give a
damn. Somehow finding that out freed me from giving them such a damn in turn.
I think I’ve always tried to use friends to replace my lack
of a sister. But when was it decided that I needed one? I feel like it didn’t
start until people kept asking me if I felt lonely being alone. And believe me
I’ve felt that cavernous, echoing gap inside me and I have curled into a ball
and locked my hands and mouth tight for fear that I would scream and claw to
fill in it in. Whoever gave me the fucking memo that made me recognise
loneliness, I would like to return it to you. Thank you for giving the hopeless
inevitably failing desire to try to find someone who understands me and
inspires me and somehow grounds me all at once. It is impossible, and in trying
to do so everyone I know is eventually a disappointment.
I’m beginning to think friendships are based on a need for
attention. As I said before it may be that another person’s acceptance
justifies your place in the world. Or someone’s need for your existence gives
you a reason to live. All human beings, I won’t believe that it’s just me, are
inconsistent. When we have what we want we no longer need it. And so for me
life is an endless cycle. My need to find someone and my hatred of them once I
do. And then returns the gap inside me that I endlessly suck the life from the
other people to fill.
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