Monday, September 22, 2008

I Care About Imaginary People

I wonder if you know how important the people in your life became to me. Not important in the sense that I revere and love them, but important to my daily musings and activities. These people are inexplicably linked to my preferences and opinions.
It is frightening, as I've never met them, which maybe explains my fascination with these characters you have illustrated for me.

I think this is creepy. I don't think you operate like this. I wish that I didn't- that I did not care and that I could separate myself, if not from you, but from all these other forces in your life that should not have any impact on my own. I should not CARE what your best girl friends are wearing or listening to or driving, and I should definitely not compare my own tastes to theirs.
Primarily and most importantly because I do not know them, and then because they have all let you down at one point or another, and I have not.
They should be measuring themselves against me, if anything.
But then, there should be no measuring at all, because, like I said: it's creepy.
It's like I can't get it in my head that this time, these months, are an opportunity to think about myself. It's become a futile task and that is so disheartening.

I think it's something that people strive for- to put others first, and to love and care for other people and to sacrifice your own wants and desires to help and support others... but good God, there is a limit! There is a difference between selfish and self-interested and I need to cultivate the latter immediately. It was a characteristic and a skill I used to possess instinctively and I think I lost it somewhere along the line of relationships I empty myself into.

Maybe instead of trying something new every day, I should try to do something for MYSELF every day.
On Saturday, I tried to sneak into the student section at the football game for myself, and ended up not only pissing off the security guard, but actually hurting her feelings. You have no idea what this was like. When I did succeed in sneaking past her, I watched the first half of the game in a drunk panic, with two sweatshirts draped over my head as a disguise. I even made The Good Bitch switch sunglasses with me, lest the security guard (who lamented that she was ONLY working this job because her husband decided to have an affair and she was just trying to keep her kids, dammit, and would I please just have fun, but stay out of trouble and her way) recognize me, divulge her ENTIRE life story, and arrest me, in that order. See what happens when I try to do something for myself?

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