And sometimes, I get angry and rant. Most often, the anger I feel is more toward myself and less toward the other party.
Earlier, I posted the above pic on IG with a caption that said, “idiots stay idiots and assholes stay assholes (…)”. I deleted the picture a couple of minutes ago. I could have changed the caption, but some people had already read and reacted. Thank you, Jeff.* Jeff asked what brought the rant on. And the truth is: people. People who pretend to be friends to get what they want and then drop you and ghost you. This happened at the end of last year, and since I like to torture or hurt myself (or because I simply don’t get a clue), I check in on those people I cared about all those months ago. And I get angry and frustrated when I am treated like someone who does not exist in their world. (Less cryptic: I got in touch, we shared a handful of messages, and they made a post tagging the people who checked in – without mentioning me. Ouch, that hurt my ego.) My first impression of those two was that something was off, already back in September 2020. But the similarities made me ignore the red flags.
I should trust my instincts more. I have good people skills, but I don’t have many friends, and that fact, and the euphoria of making a connection made me careless.
I cooled down considerably now. I just feel a bit sad about it all. Hurt, knowing full well that it is petty and unimportant. You know, I don’t have many friends I meet regularly. I pushed them all away when I was at my lowest in 2018 – when I was suicidal and had depression. They all left the sinking ship without a glance back. After that, there was no one I physically knew that I called friend until that September 2020. And that made me happy. I let down my guard the moment we hugged when we met. Great people. Or so I thought. It doesn’t matter. But it does.
I wish all the people who used to be my friends lots of love and happiness. I wish them no harm. But selfishly, I also want them to remember me with a fond smile. The thing is: if people get under my skin (in real life or online), it is hard for me to let them go and stop caring for their well-being. What does that make me? I don’t know.
I may seem lonely. But I am not. I am in a good place. I have friends that I love. Not many, and still very carefully, but they exist. I have a fantastic family. The one I founded, not the one I was born into. And I have a job, a career, doing something that matters and changes lives.
Why does the past make me angry? I don’t have regrets, and I would not change a thing. Might it be jealousy? That’s an ugly trait. I don’t want to feel that way – but maybe, just maybe, indeed, I feel jealous.
To the people reading this: thank you. I am not asking for attention or advice, or clever words. I just want to say thank you for popping by and understanding these very human feelings.
*go check out Jeff‘s blog. It is filled with music and reviews. You will not regret spending some time browsing that site. Promised.