Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Something I Wrote Long Ago That May Still Hold True

The People Who Know Me
And just who would that be? How well do I think anyone knows me? The answer is simple; No one knows me and no one cares to really know me.
The only time people care is when I happen to upset their happy seemingly unknowing world. Please do not patronize me, saying you care about me, worry about me and the minuet something happens that you don't know how to deal with, you turn tail and run.
People don't know that sometimes the last thing you want is to be left alone. And yet that is all people seem to know what to do with me when I am upset. No one so much as attempts to stay around or get me to talk. I suppose it's all too convenient to just walk away and tell themselves that they tried.
It seems most people are just waiting to hear "Go Away!" so they can say "Oh, you want to be left alone? OK bye." and run out without ever trying to figure out what is actually wrong or another way to help.
People do not even stay long enough to prove themselves friends. I can not count the nights I spent consoling my friends when I really would have liked to be elsewhere, but never the less I did it. I stayed when they said they wanted to be alone, all the while silently pleading with their eyes. I did it for them, but does anyone do it for me?
No one says "No, I'm not leaving, even if you want me to, because you need to see that I care and that I want you to be OK. I'm going to ride this out with you, like you do for me when I am upset. No matter how much you cry and scream, you won't scare me off and when this is all through, I will love you just the same. I will still see you as the person you have always been to me. No matter how bad things seem, I will help you get through it."
Does anyone ever take the initiative to call me or see how I am doing? Does anyone ever press past the typical "I'm fine" response?
People could, but that doesn't mean they will.
I get so angry, the least people could do is try. Do people seriously think that it is easy for me to listen to their asinine stories and fake interest? It's not, but I try.
There is no number for times I've heard "You are so funny!" To which I respond "I'm being serious". No one seems to take me seriously. Perhaps it is that they do not want to believe how serious things can be with me. Everyone just wants me to remain their fall back crutch, the person they go to when something is wrong. Yet no one seems to want to reciprocate the actions, feelings, concerns, not any of it, or at the very least, not enough. I do not believe this is selfish, it is simply wanting the same courtesy extended to be that I give.
I have decided to give no more. It's not worth it. Most people are not worth it. There really isn't anyone you can trust but yourself. Only you know how you are feeling and only you can deal with it.
In the end, no matter what poems or songs say, everyone is alone. Everyone deals with their problems alone. Everyone dies alone.
I have been saying for years that I have no friends, that I hate most people and I'd rather be alone. It's not easy to be this way, but it is easier. I've been disappointed too many times by people who say they are "friends" to count on anyone. It is easier to take yourself when you don't have people you thought you could trust running for the hills whenever you feel upset, or thinking something is wrong with you. It is easier to turn inside and deal or ignore and continue on when all you have is yourself.
If in the end we are all alone, then I have a head start, for I have been alone all my life.


  1. the narrow aisles of pain only have room for one to pass through....