Sometimes, it's hard to stop and realize things are not okay.

When you are a person prone to (ahem) wit and (fsh!) humorously making light of a situation, your suddenly serious and possibly dramatic behavior becomes kind of a weird oxymoronic dobule-whammy of bafflement to some people.

Confusion ensues. Bitterness overfloweth cup. Mind explodes– most things remain unsaid.

So sometimes it's easy just to write about your feelings, as cheap and high school as that all sounds. Here goes an attempt to organize my mind. I share it mostly so that any of you out there who have ever wanted to say these things to a friend can sit back with me and go, "YESSSSS."

Then, we can all be silent together. Deal?

___________

Dear charmingly, but utterly, self-absorbed friend who I still talk to, in spite of the years and despite the fact that most conversations revolve around the fact that your life is awesomer than mine even when things are not well; and who I know for a fact that you don't read my blog because you kind of think blogs are ridiculous things that nerdy people "do",

Yes: I have reasons to grieve. Grief is not limited to death and dying. People can grieve over temporary changes, if those changes are life-altering enough.

Even if 99% of the time my Facebook status update has something baffling and semi-obscure such as, "Now with more pep!" or "Swimming in a bubble of my own making," or my personal favorite, "Ferrying souls across the Styx for fun and profit," sometimes I get emo.

I said it: I get totally down-on-myself, why-is-my-husband-in-a-scary-place, why-am-I-getting-older, damn-kids-won't-shut-up, woe-is-me, overgrown-bangs and shuffly-walk emo.

In other words, even those of us who joke a lot (or fail trying) have our feelings. And sometimes, amazingly, we don't want to hide them behind a wall of obscure popular culture references.

Sometimes we want you to ask (and want you to mean it, when you ask) how we are doing. You can indicate this by pausing longer than three seconds before you launch into "mm-hmm" mode– you know, those vocal fillers that indicate to me that you're thinking about your next awesome thing happening in your life rather than paying attention to boring old mine.

For crying out loud: even when you were nearly destitute you were still carrying on about how awesome your life is! I don't know if that is indefatigable optimism or something more Machiavellian whose purpose I cannot entirely elucidate (Intimidation through gritty awesomeness? It's very 1930s in a way).

I realize I have issues. I also realize I sound very petty here, but honestly, I should probably be saying some of these things to your face.

I realize as I write this that I've sat back and let you take the reins in this friendship– you are Batman and I am Robin, forever stuck with unflattering yellow tights and eternal pimply youth in your mind.

Finally, I realize that people change. I treasure our shared past and I treasure the many great memories and times we have shared over the years. And I think that next time we talk, I'm just going to unload on you.

And in the immortal words of Wayne Campbell, "If you blow chunks and she comes back, she's yours. But if you spew and she bolts, then it was never meant to be."

True friends don't bolt. They are allowed to tease you mercilessly about how pathetic you looked when you hurled, but they pass you the mop and bucket afterward.

14 Apr This entry was published on April 14, 2010 at 10:01 pm and is filed under Inner Lotus Blooms, Pop Culture. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.