I have a habit of logging everything.
So today, I came across this:
9:53:31 am
2/5/07
Got laid off, feeling somewhat relieved.
A SMS I had written to Chris the moment I had been let go from that one startup. I had been escorted to the top floor of the office where I was given several minutes to offload the laptop. While I waited for things to transferred, I sent a txt msg. Like a relief. Like in hope.
But really.
Also, I went through some SMS that reminded me of the time I was in Pittsburgh. The ones I sent to Ben…in disappointment.
And of course the many I sent to Lulu. Or really the many she sent to me and the ones I sent in response. I hated having a conversation over txt msgs because I couldn\’t fully express what I wanted to say in a short sentence. And she would often avoid phone calls. I hated it. and worse of all, I hated when she flaked. there were so smses where she apologized for not being able to make it. For not being able to show up. And I couldn\’t stand it.
Why not say the truth? Why be sick…just go through it.
If she does confront me about it again, I might say the truth, point out my list. Because I couldn\’t understand you, because I couldn\’t accept that you were sick, because I couldn\’t be a moral, normal human being, I don\’t deserve to be your friend.
which is probably the truth.
The other day, an old old old friend contacted me through facebook. She was one of my first friends at Berkeley, before I suddenly ditched everyone who reminded me of my conservative beginnings. Or so I think. Or that they didn\’t want to explore with me. Friends later comforted me saying that you change friends as you change. But perhaps I don\’t like to keep those that remind me what I didn\’t want to be.
Despite all that, I looked at her photos. It was the group of girls I used to know. In fact, I was the one who introduced most of them together…during my charismatic days. I met a friend in a class, I met another friend through the dining commons, through someone else…and I did bring them together. And as I looked through their photos, they went on a road trip, to Napa, to Hawaii together. It was as if I was there…but I wasn\’t. I recognized everyone. Some people dressed better. Some people had different hairstyles. Some were…mostly the same. But I was absent, the hub. But I purposefully removed myself.
And still I try not to follow that old adage of mine—to have new friends every year. Because I get tired of them. It\’s true. Someone once said that I expect too much out of people. And perhaps my disgust of flakiness is only that.
And although I don\’t like it, I still relish in sadism. And when I am provoking someone, I almost feel pleasure…or sometimes, I don\’t even think they\’re people anymore.