Saturday, June 5, 2010
Wherever you go, there you are...
:: Warning :: Self pity to follow ::
I'm not good at relationships. It's the truth. I have lived my life from one place to the next, not really getting close to people. I'm always surprised when someone tells me they love me. I don't quite trust their confession anyway. I've lived separate from my family most of my life. The ones I did live with have passed. In many ways, I'm alone in the world. It's not a terrible thing. It's just... a thing.
When I was coming up (that's growing up for those of you who don't speak "Philly-ese"), I remember silence. Days and days of silence. I figured out early on that speaking could be my downfall. Seeing the truth and speaking it was not acceptable. My father used to tell me that I was so fat that the grates in the street would collapse under me if I walked on them. "But cars weigh more than I do, and they go over them all the time," I told him. My realization cost me. I didn't see his hand coming, but I sure did see the stars after. In school, a teacher was tired of my silences and gave me an assignment. I was a good student, and I always completed my work. My new task? Read a story to the class. She was a smart lady. In first grade, we were told to write about something we hate to do. I wrote "I hate to talk. It always gets me in trouble." Some things never change.
And so, this week, in vino veritas. Except it was soju and cervezas. I was told that I say X about someone and it angers him. I didn't know I did that! It was an ugly thing, and I say it in jest, not knowing it was upsetting. I'm so glad he told me. I want to watch my words. I know I will bite my tongue and weigh my words when we are together. We drink to that. And the alcohol sets in. Again, between the two of us there is a misunderstanding, and I wonder if he is right... and then.
And then I yelled back. I said the quiet, niggling little things that my "diplomacy" and my "humor" never allowed me to say. It was not pretty. I stand behind what I remember saying (not that it is accurate, but what I think I said). It could have been said in a more kind way. I didn't have to be a jerk. There is no excuse. I chose to throw back those drinks. I know I'm not a happy, silly drunk. Usually, I'm a sad drunk. Not this time. Evidently I'm also a bitch drunk.
The guilt I feel, the turning in my gut, the self-loathing are getting to me a bit. I'm embarrassed that I angered my friend. *Is he still my friend? I don't know*.
So, here I am. Still crap at relationships. I suppose now I remember why I don't believe people when they say they love me. Who would love someone who was such a jerk? And now my tummy hurts knowing I have to face him in a day and a half. I will. I won't hide. But still I will hear all the things in my head that I say, that I've heard others say to me. And I will avoid the street grates. Who knows? Maybe my fathead self really will break them.
*photo is from the internet.