Hello, my good fellow internet people. I’ve once again managed to be such an irresponsible klutz for leaving my blog, without even a single post worth reading entirely. Honestly, looking back from the past weeks, I can tell how much my summer hasn’t been fairly productive. And I am sorry for being able to stick to my word about /making/ my summer /productive/. Once again, I am a major klutz.
Anyway, this post isn’t about summing up my entire summer vacation yet. Basically, because my summer is still not done for I still have approximately 3 (or 4?) weeks left. Aside from preparing for my 18th debut celebration, I’ve also indulged myself into watching TV Series (it’s a good and a bad thing).
Okay, that isn’t really the whole point of this post. I’m sorry (again); I have this habit of eventually drifting off from the appointed topic. I’m still trying to fix it. Anyway! Okay, time to carry on to the main agenda for tonight.
I am a bad friend.
Now, I know. There isn’t really an official basis for bad friends, but I guess I’m just judging myself through my actions towards my (real life) friends. You see, when you spend years and years with people, you start to think that they must know you very well already. Or at least, that’s how I think about the people I’ve spent a huge amount of time with in the past years. I just like to think that they already know me so well, you know? Just like actual best friends do. I’ve never had an actual best friend until I reached my third year in High school, and the best part of that was I got about nine best friends. It was the best—and somehow the worst—years of my life. We’ve been the best of friends and classmates for about 3 or 4 years, they basically know everything that’s been happening with my life. Back then, I thought they already knew me well enough to identify what I like and don’t like in life.
But looking back to everything from now, it almost seems like they really didn’t know me that well…at all. I’m probably wrong about this, because back then I used to lie a lot about myself and what I feel. It’s like a defense mechanism of some sort, I don’t know.
It’s just that, not so long ago I hung out with them again. You know the same old drill. We went out, talked a lot and shared stories. Then there was this one moment when one of my closest friends was talking about her ex-boyfriend (I didn’t know they broke up until then), and I literally had no idea about what she was telling me anymore. And you know what’s worse? I had no idea what to tell her after that, so I just nodded and said “everything’s going to be okay.”
The painful part about all of this is when I realized how much I’ve disconnected from these people after we graduated from High school. I am a bad friend, I know. But it’s not like they made an effort in reaching me. We’d spent 3 years together; they should at least know that I didn’t like texting people first or talking to people first because that’s how I am. And unless the lives of every living creature in this planet depended on it, I really won’t approach people first.
Ugh, it’s already bad that I’m holding all this against them. But I’m only human, and I can’t help but think that I feel left out. Maybe if they come over to my house and I actually know what they’re talking about, I wouldn’t feel so. But I do, every single goddamn time they step foot in our household. I literally don’t know what to do or what to say, because I don’t understand. The worst part of it all is they don’t even ask about me, whether I’m doing well or whether I’m not. I am the underdog of the group, I’ve always been and I will always probably be. It hurts that they allow me to think this way, or they just let it happen. And maybe they have no idea that I feel this way because a) I’m good at lying about what I feel and b) they literally don’t ask at all.
I’m a genuinely easy person to talk to, really. If you’d asked me what I feel and you meant it, I would literally spill everything without restraints. But they…I just can’t help but think that they’re just some of those people who asks you if you’re okay just for the sake of asking you, and they really don’t want to listen to you talk about shit. Like, all they want you to do is to listen to them instead.
Well I guess I'm tired of listening.
Maybe this is part of the change, because I clearly know that I’ve changed. Maybe I have finally become the person that I’ve always wanted to be, BUT I will never forget who and what I was before. Maybe this is good you know? It’s good that I’m seeing things differently from before and it might actually do me good. Maybe this is happening, so I can (finally) know who my friends are, or what the point of having friends is, or why I even have friends at all. I think this is good. But what’s not good is the fact that I—honestly—don’t want to hang out with them anymore. That not’s good at all.
I am so good at disappearing from people’s lives, but I’m bad at forgetting. I don’t want to disappear from their lives—I don’t want those 3 years of keeping up with their bullshit go to waste—but they’re making me want to disappear.
What do I do?