I don’t know what the best words are for this situation. I don’t want to be cruel. I want to be understanding. But I’m worn down to the last threads of my patience.
I’m not good at being angry and, mostly, I’m not angry right now. I’m tired. Tired of feeling like I can’t do anything right. Tired all the way up in my temples and behind my eyes.
What’s the situation?
I’ve been told, essentially, that I ruined someone’s life. Or at least five years or so of it. I have been told that I don’t care, that I’ve been cruel for the fun of it. I’m a bad friend, a b*tch, and I don’t try… Even though I could. I choose to be all that I am.
Maybe it’s true?
Maybe some friends would be better off if they’d never met me. Maybe I’m a terrible person.
I can’t see it clearly. I can only go with what I feel. And I can’t feel bad about this anymore. I can’t take on the guilt for the person I don’t believe I am.
I wanted to take it on. I wanted to blame myself. I wanted to see the way I was being treated as irrelevant. I should’ve had more backbone. I shouldn’t have closed myself off. I should’ve stopped that somehow. I should’ve been stronger.
Right?
But I’m not stronger. I guess I’m weak, but at this point it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to cry about this again. I’m tired.
If I have the choice, I choose not to wear all this blame. I absolve myself.
Because I’ve tried to be outwardly understanding for years, and I don’t feel like I’m getting it in return at all.
So I’m going to do it, instead.
I’m not cruel. I’m not a bad person. I do care. I do love my friends.
And myself.
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