I don’t know what I did to deserve my family. I really don’t. Like, maybe, if past lives are a thing, I did something horrible to them in a past life.
Maybe I murdered them in a grusome way.
I can see how that would happen.
I’m going through a phrase or perhaps a new point of view in my life where I don’t care if people who I thought were my friends don’t behave like friends.
At the moment, I’m conducting an experiment. Basically I don’t communicate with anyone outside my work or errands unless they communicate with me first. And let’s just say that it’s been an extremely quiet period.
I had a friend (at the moment I decided), who often told me how she was crumbling under the stress of her career and her family issues, and how much she contemplated suicide. So I did the best I could for her: was understanding, showed some tough love and checked up on her as much as I could bring myself to do so amidst the constant negativity- it went on for almost a year.
So, because I am an idiot. I shared with her what I was going through and….. she was avoidant and uncomfortable and checked on me once.
Seriously. I don’t know why I’m still here, having this mundane existence. No one will miss me when I go and honestly, I don’t want to stay. I want to close my eyes and never open them again.
It’s better than being the idiot that gives too much and gets nothing in return.