October 21, 2013

  • What's New Scooby Doo?

    I'm suddenly reminded of Salvador. In about 19 hours we'll be in a theatre doing what we do best: watch an animated with Megz.

    So I'm on my usual Facebook sabbatical. This time, I'm not letting Spotify get in the way. I can use it on my laptop no problem, at least my offline playlists, but I just have nothing for the road which is why I've been paying for Spotify in the first place. I might have to find an alternative way to sign in because of this.

    So many things have left my brain despite my want to write down my thoughts. Laziness. Negligence of myself. Whatever the hell. And now I'm here at the end of the day, start of the day, whatever, collecting my thoughts on the last 24 hours. 24 hours ago, I was definitely asleep or about to. I believe I got home from dinner around 1130.

    Everyone who matters knows how to get a hold of me without Facebook so that's not going to be a huge issue. I'm just going to assume that those who don't bother don't need me. But they all have to assume that a lack of response means #iaintgottimeforthat. Facebook is, of course, a distraction. And I don't need the extra stress right now. It's time to refresh and replenish myself and find my center. Those who matter will come forward. Those who care will not come forward with things that will stress me out. Those who love me will only come forward when they know I need them or if they need me or if they know I need to take a break.

    No one will plead.

    Yesterday I had a little spat with Yayu. Hey, that happens with siblings right? Brothers and sisters fight. But brother, you've tainted your name. It's time for baby sister to come to terms with the fact that she'll never get a big brother. So I'll stop searching now. I love you but you're not supposed to be anything like my real family. And brother, I'm sorry. Don't beat yourself up. Don't believe that you've done anything wrong. Don't believe you need to change. It really isn't you, it's me. I can't handle our friendship. So no, you can't have your friend back.

    I'm growing and I'm moving forward and I've said before that the saddest part of moving forward is the people you leave behind. Frankly, I don't believe you can catch up. You seem to be stagnant, in a rut. And I don't have the means nor time to help you get out of it. You have to find that within yourself. I apologize. Because I know already that I am a very bad friend.

    People use people. I am no different. And I used you to help keep me sane, keep me stable. We have had a symbiotic sort of relationship. But it seems that we've reached a point in which you have nothing to offer me but stressful situations and a longing for a time when we used to have it good. But if you can't even be complacent with where you are right now, then you will never be happy when you get to the place that it IS good. It is a shallow happiness. Fake. Nonexistent.

    To add, you are the single person who has ever uttered the words to me "I just want to have my friend back". That insults me. That insults you. No excuses. Natural selection, buddy. Survival of the fittest. And you claim to be "surviving" but I don't think you are. Because survival insinuates not needing much to move forward. But you seem to be lying on the ground letting the elements keep you alive as they come to you, rather than being resourceful enough to push. Which is sad because you're resourceful enough to do that.

    I can't help you. I can barely help myself. Stop relying on my return to keep yourself alive and becoming happy. No one else is doing that. They miss me, I know. I know that by the way Ed showed up at my house during a cancelled tea time, and Ferzan texts and tweets me "PENIS" on a random occasion and Ren comes out to me and tells me that he's taken Thursday every day off for two months so he will have the time when I finally do. But no one else is begging for my return. And this is not the kind of begging I'm keen on.

    So I don't expect to hear from you while I'm on sabbatical, nor am I sure that I even care to hear from you. The very thought stresses me out.

    I'm sorry that I'm not sorry.

    Z.