Sunday, October 16, 2011

October 17th, 2011

It's been about 2 full months since I last talked to the person I considered my best friend. Which also means I've been 21 for about two months. Both are hard to take in, if I'm completely honest. Part of me feels like just yesterday I was 17. And that just last night I was waking up to him asleep on the couch, and his cousins roaming about the house, and his Nana coming in from work completely exhausted. Then again, with everything going on, it's easy to believe it. I'm helpless on almost all sides, and the only help I seem to get is just far enough out of reach that something gets in the way of it, and prevents it from getting to me. 

Great example is looking back to July-August. Summer was in full swing, and I had finally found a place for myself and my dad to move into. On my own. Money was the issue as usual though. I managed to find an aquaintence willing to front $650 sight unseen to help us get the apartment. The landlord rented it out from under us while we were waiting for the deposit approval, at the same time the person who swore up and down if we got our boat out of storage [Costing almost $250] he would buy it, backed out. We spent money out of the 650 to get it out, as he had agreed to buy the boat for $800, which would have put the 250 back in, and left us an extra $550 to move into the apartment with. 
But with those two back-tracking moments from other people, we went from having a place to live and an extra bit of cash, to having $400 and just more and more things we owed on.
When given the $650, we agreed to pay it back by the end of the year, December. We're in October, and we're in worse shape than we were when we got the money. 

And on top of it all, I have no one I can really talk to about anything. The only "friend" I could talk to was really just a cunt. Pardon my language, and I promise I NEVER use that word, but she is. Was. Will always be. If I didn't snap to attention at the slightest hint of a depressed thought on her account, I was the bad guy. If she had a bad day, I was the bad guy. If the latest girl she had a slight crush on wasn't talking to her at all, or just fast enough, I was the bad guy. And when I confided in her my feelings for someone, she didn't care. If I tried to vent to her once as she constantly did to me, I was the bad guy. I just wanted to use her. Behind my back, she called me every name she could think of. Called me a liar. A bitch. A careless, heartless person. A user, abuser, cheat. And then? Then, to try and get back at me for something I didn't even do, she gets my best friend in trouble with his family. Forget what shoulda/woulda/coulda happened to me, his mother damn near had a heart attack thinking the past was repeating itself. And then as if that wasn't enough, she had to spread the same rumors around to people in the town he and I LIVE in, to make me look like even MORE of a bad guy. 

As if it couldn't be worse, I'm still in love with him. How pathetic is that? To be in love with someone that couldn't care less whether or not you're even breathing still. Someone that would go out of his way to pretend you don't exist rather than walk past you somewhere. Someone who haunts my every step, and every waking moment, and every stupid thought. 
I can't talk to anyone about him, or anything. All I can do is suck it up, cry when I'm by myself, and dream of a day I might get to hear him say hello again. Or talk about meaningless things with him. Or try and find constellations with him. Hell, I'd give my right hand if I could just hug him once.Just once more. 

That'll never happen though. Nothing ever really goes my way unless it's bad, youi know?

Life lesson for this one I guess:
Don't fall in love. It's never a mutual feeling.
Find someone that likes you, and fall in like with them. Never in love.

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