Not that many people are, but I’m not a good person. I can
go weeks without seeing any of my friends and be pretty content. I’m a poor
weather friend so when someone is in need, I’m right there. A few weeks ago I
saw Alli in the Valley. It was really random to run into each other half way
across town. But as we caught up I could tell she was close to tears because of
her recent break up. I promised I would take her out the dinner the following
week. I told her joke to make her smile and I hugged her tightly before she
left to let her know that she was special to me. And she is. But I can’t get
myself to call her up casually to chat or join anyone at Café 50’s after FHE.
Velwyn has been living in Europe for the past few months. I
still stalk her instagram and comment on her new business profile to give it a
boost. But I didn’t feel comfortable when she was here to go out for tea alone
just for kicks. I did offer to let her stay on my couch however for an
interview she’s got next week. She’s the kind of wonderful girl who has friends
everywhere but goes through life not thinking about it too much. I wish I was
so brave.
But I’m not. I’ll do what service I can do but when it comes
down to it- I can’t be myself. Except for Hawaii 2 years ago, I don’t think I’ve
ever taken a vacation. Even during summer breaks any time there was anyone else
in the room, there wasn’t a moment where I didn’t feel like I shouldn’t be
doing something.
You know, when we were kids our mom came home once from
shopping and started to yell at us because all the time she had been gone we
didn’t think to do the dishes for her. From that point on, every time she left
the house my brothers and I would clean it. I mean, clean it the best a 15, 11, and 9 year old knew how. The first time
we tried to make it a surprise. The second time, we casually mentioned it to
her. I remember thinking she looked a little uncomfortable with how dedicated
we had become. The many times after that, we didn’t say anything at all and she
didn’t either. We just did it. When she was in the house it was a little like
the CEO had come for a visit and we always needed to look like we were busy.
She got disappointed once when we went to the library and I picked “Murder, She
Wrote” because it was too easy.
I don’t mean to tell that story to draw sympathy or excuse
myself from being a self-serving person. Being afraid is really no excuse at
all for selfishness- in fact it almost makes it worse. Then any kindness I do
give can be interpreted as a desire to feel like I’m being a good person
instead of really wanting to buoy the other person up (ironically, another
characteristic of my mother). The fact that I am selfish in a different way
than other people doesn’t change the fact at all.
Taking this too far, one could say that appearing happy too
is then a façade instead of a harmless social obligation.
I might have taken a double dose of my medication today but
I don’t remember. I feel my head warbling on my neck like all the fat from my
body got stored in my skull and the top heavy crowding is keep blood from
flowing to the cells that tell me I’m not a monster in a girl’s body.
