You know that pain? That pain that is so searingly intense that you can't even share it with your best internet friends? (that was a joke.) No, it's not lady problems, it's betrayal by your best friends. Come on, we've all felt it. No? Just me? Oh. Sorry.
I've suffered my fifth betrayal in as many months and I am exhausted. My circle of friends gets smaller by the day, and I'm starting to wonder, is it me? It's fascinating how awful things happen and we ask ourselves ad nauseam "what did I do to deserve this?", yet nice things happen, and we feel as though we've earned them, rarely giving them another thought. Why do we only question the bad? And is life really so random? Seriously, I'm a ridiculously loyal friend, something like a golden retriever, and quite literally the worst thing I have ever done to somebody was to break up with them when I knew it was for both of our good, and believe me, I am still paying for it. What is my gaping flaw that invites torment from those I'd gladly take a bullet or two for? As it stands, two of the people I've cared about most in this marmoreal world are as good as dead to me. How does one carry on under such harrowing circumstances? How does one trust another living soul? Should I just call up my remaining friends right now and tell them not to bother? How does one explain to all of the unanswered calls and letters exactly why one has been living in a cave? How does one resist the awful temptation to give in to anger and bitterness and metamorphosise into a completely different person, one without innocence and faith and hope? Because if that's my only option, I quit, I will not be one of you monsters without morals!
I've suffered my fifth betrayal in as many months and I am exhausted. My circle of friends gets smaller by the day, and I'm starting to wonder, is it me? It's fascinating how awful things happen and we ask ourselves ad nauseam "what did I do to deserve this?", yet nice things happen, and we feel as though we've earned them, rarely giving them another thought. Why do we only question the bad? And is life really so random? Seriously, I'm a ridiculously loyal friend, something like a golden retriever, and quite literally the worst thing I have ever done to somebody was to break up with them when I knew it was for both of our good, and believe me, I am still paying for it. What is my gaping flaw that invites torment from those I'd gladly take a bullet or two for? As it stands, two of the people I've cared about most in this marmoreal world are as good as dead to me. How does one carry on under such harrowing circumstances? How does one trust another living soul? Should I just call up my remaining friends right now and tell them not to bother? How does one explain to all of the unanswered calls and letters exactly why one has been living in a cave? How does one resist the awful temptation to give in to anger and bitterness and metamorphosise into a completely different person, one without innocence and faith and hope? Because if that's my only option, I quit, I will not be one of you monsters without morals!
