I'm beginning to realize that there comes a point in life where one simply has to recognize that they are not the sort of person with whom other people are going to be friends for the long term. I'd like to say there's something freeing in that realization, but there isn't. In fact, it pretty much sucks. But, none the less, there it is.
Still trying to decide what to do with this information as far as making/maintaining what "friendships" I currently possess. Because honestly? There's a big haze of what the F is the point hovering over it all. When you know that, ultimately, it's going to go down in a flaming ball of poo--and oh by the way it'll be completely your fault and the other parties will always be 100% innocent, just ask them!--why try?
At the same time, I'm stuck trying to put a happy face on it all and convince my children that no, those mean kids at the play date/wherever we encountered them aren't the norm and really, there are good people out there in the world if you look. What a liar I've become. The reality that I'd like to explain to my kids? You may end up having friends, but don't put a lot of stock in them, because at their tiniest whim even grown adults turn into middle school girls and they will destroy you, light the remains on fire, and walk away whistling and telling everyone else they encounter that you brought it on yourself.
It amuses me that I have a category labeled Kindred Spirits. Clearly I was a lot more optimistic when I started this blog. Because I have firmly, 100% relegated that idea to the realm of fiction. My book friends? They're the only ones that stick around.
*spot the quote
16 hours ago
"Do you hear that, Mr. Anderson?"
ReplyDeleteSo sorry you're having to deal with flakes in meat-space, but yay that you're back here!
-Robbo
Heh. Meat-space. I haven't thought of that term in an eon. But it's fitting. Appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteAnd it's nice to be back.