fick·le
adj.Characterized by erratic changeableness or instability, especially with regard to affections or attachments; capricious.[Middle English fikel, from Old English ficol, deceitful.]fick'le·ness n.fick'ly adv.
I never think its excusable for one to complain about his or her friends on the Internet, because the solution should always be simple- if they treat you well, they're your friends. If they treat you indifferently or abusively, drop them, because holding on to them will only make them feel more empowered. But what are you to do with those who treat you wrong only through the ways in which they treat others well?
Maybe it should just be considered a pet peeve of mine- when your friends stand in a crowd which you are only allowed to stand in the outskirts of, and they cryptically- or, in some cases, blatantly- talk about all of the cool stuff and fun times they are going to have. Then you can't stop yourself from looking around earnestly and asking "What're you guys gonna do?"
At this, a moment of tension befalls the group, and everybody looks to everyone else for the right response, before casually answering, "Not much. Just some stuff. I don't even know if it's for sure. So who saw that nasty lunch in the cafeteria today?"
...And for the rest of the night, everyone is careful about what they say around you. The group later leaves the area hurriedly, off to wherever their fun times await them, making sure that you don't notice them as they leave, thereby making it so that, later on, when express your observation of this, they can give a heartbroken look and say, "You wanted to come with us?! You should have said something..."
Thanks. Thanks assholes.
And that is what runs through my mind as I sit in my room on the first evening of spring break, having nothing to do but rage blog about how... hurtful it is to know that I'm deliberately avoided, left uninvited... unwanted.
... And to go to school everyday, knowing that anything I might say is going to be chewed up and spat back out... any response I might get is limited to
Shut up.
You're an idiot.
Why do I hang out with you?
All I heard was lispy lisp...
Go away.
Just shut the fuck up.
...and it shouldn't bother me, the things that my fairweather friends have to say. The whole lot of them dangles down somewhere in dank cellar in which they need narcotics to have a fun time- a factor, which they seem hardset on believing puts me below them...
..and it's the most skewed view of reality I've ever had privilege to witness...
So maybe the problem lies a bit deeper than not being invited to join in the fun.
Maybe I'm having trouble following my own guidelines as to when and when not to keep friends...
Well, whatever. They're going to graduate in a year, and whether our relationships worsen or strengthen by that point, it won't matter.
So it's just now that I have to survive...
Struggling to keep afloat in a pool of oppression and ignorance, stifled by the public eye...
...a pool of something that has an uncanny resemblance to pain...
...and here I am with the unmistakable memory of being left out in the rain...
I've
seen
this
all
before.
|emmy|
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