I don't think I've felt as fragile in my life as I do today. It feels like the slightest thing could demolish me.
For those of you that are still unaware of my recent loss, my grandfather died last Wednesday morning. I worshiped that man. I say 'died' instead of 'passed away' because that's what happened. According to the belief system that he acknowledged in front of me, he wasn't going to have an afterlife. When he was done, he was done. He blinked out of existence. Maybe just kind of vanished like the flame on a lighter after the cherry glows on a cigarette. He used to have me blow out the lighter when he was done lighting up one of his Marlboro Reds. Soft pack only. I never knew why.
When I got out of my Spanish class today, I tried to call my mother to ask her permission to get a tattoo. She hasn't gotten back to me. I have an artist in mind already, and the design and placement. I just want to ask her first since she's going to have to see it whenever she looks at me. I'm not concerned about it keeping me from getting a job. I can keep it covered easily. I'm not concerned about how it'll look in forty years. None of me will be very attractive then. I just can't deal with disappointment and disgust at the moment.
I've never had to deal with this kind of grief before. I don't know if I want to be alone or with friends right now. I don't know if I want to go to the arboretum and sit in some leafy shade and eat a pomegranate or sit in a dark dorm room and listen to more Marilyn Manson at an obscene volume. I don't know if I want to sob until my stomach aches or if I want to just curl up and sleep. I don't know.
There's an eerie calm to my torment though. It's more of a weary sigh than an agonized scream. I'm taking it to mean that this too shall pass. Time heals all wounds and wounds all heels, so... I guess it's a bit of a tradeoff.
I just keep thinking of the last time I saw him, it was the same as any other time I told him goodbye. I hugged him and told him that I loved him, and he said "I love you too, baby." I can still hear his voice.
I still have voicemails from him left in my phone.
I know I'll heal. I know that this gut wrenching agony will eventually just become a dull ache. But I'm choking on this slick taste of sorrow. I'm sick of reapplying mascara and eyeliner.
It's been a long week. I just miss him.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Home
While I have some free time, and I'm kind of ruminating on the
thought/idea of home without being homesick, I figured I'd kill some
time and describe it to you.
No, home isn't the house I live in. I've never lived there. It's the house on Jackson Hill, on Highway 7, leaving Joaquin and going toward Center. It's an old brick house that my great-grandparents lived in.
The driveway is sloped at a terrifying angle (or so I think. I always have trouble backing out of it without hitting the Pampas Grass on either side of it), and leads up to a garage with a chipped support in the front. My mother nicked it with the back of the old Oldsmobile that used to be parked there. (Pretty sure she doesn't want that bit told.) If you knock on the front door instead of the side door, everyone inside jokes about you and talks about how you haven't ever been there before. That screened in porch is where Paw-Paw's dogs stayed a good deal of the time. Through that front door with the broken pane, the first thing you see is the massive fireplace that's just the right height to sit on when there's not a fire in it. I've never been around a fireplace that heated that well. Take a few steps in and look to the left. There's that door that no one that knows anything about the house knocks on. Another step and there's the window that Grandma used to feed birds at. The cardinals and hummingbirds still fly by there, even though I can't remember the last time there was any seed in the feeder.
Walk up to the fireplace and see the clock that I've seen my Paw-Paw wind a thousand times if I've seen it once. Take a right into the dining room. I've spent countless holidays in this dining room, picking at the most amazing food I've ever had, and some of the least impressive as well... But definitely more good food, mountains more, than bad. I've talked about everything from school work to boyfriends to visiting relatives in this room. Out the window, you can see the gardenia bush(? Tree? Shrub?). Those white flowers are possibly my favorite in the world. The waxy petals and cloyingly sweet smell never fail to take me to that hill, regardless of where my feet are actually planted.
From that window in the dining room, go straight to that thick back door to the porch, where I 'learned to smoke' by sitting on those concrete steps while the older relatives had cigarettes, or in Uncle Arnold's case, at least, a cigar or two. I used to nap in that porch swing while Momma took care of Grandma. I've read so many library books on that painted swing. It got that coat of (now peeling) paint years ago. I think that Tori and I may have painted it actually. if memory serves, my cousin Joy (whose endeavor I think it was) painted the railing to the front door, and Ashley painted the ironwork on the front porch. Then again, it was years ago, and I hardly paid it much attention.
Back through the back door, down the hall on the left. The front bathroom, then the bedroom on the right, where Grandpa stayed when he was sick. Where Grandma stayed when she was sick. Where Paw-Paw sleeps now when he's there, with the bookshelf packed with paperback westerns right inside the door. Back down the hall some more. The back bathroom with the blue wallpaper. The huge hall closet that at one point had a porch light in it to illuminate the depths of it. Then down the steps to the back bedroom.
I never lived here in the sense that I slept there routinely, but it's home.
Jolie Holland's music takes me there, just like the smell of gardenia or the sound of crickets or a good sunset.
Well, time to run.
No, home isn't the house I live in. I've never lived there. It's the house on Jackson Hill, on Highway 7, leaving Joaquin and going toward Center. It's an old brick house that my great-grandparents lived in.
The driveway is sloped at a terrifying angle (or so I think. I always have trouble backing out of it without hitting the Pampas Grass on either side of it), and leads up to a garage with a chipped support in the front. My mother nicked it with the back of the old Oldsmobile that used to be parked there. (Pretty sure she doesn't want that bit told.) If you knock on the front door instead of the side door, everyone inside jokes about you and talks about how you haven't ever been there before. That screened in porch is where Paw-Paw's dogs stayed a good deal of the time. Through that front door with the broken pane, the first thing you see is the massive fireplace that's just the right height to sit on when there's not a fire in it. I've never been around a fireplace that heated that well. Take a few steps in and look to the left. There's that door that no one that knows anything about the house knocks on. Another step and there's the window that Grandma used to feed birds at. The cardinals and hummingbirds still fly by there, even though I can't remember the last time there was any seed in the feeder.
Walk up to the fireplace and see the clock that I've seen my Paw-Paw wind a thousand times if I've seen it once. Take a right into the dining room. I've spent countless holidays in this dining room, picking at the most amazing food I've ever had, and some of the least impressive as well... But definitely more good food, mountains more, than bad. I've talked about everything from school work to boyfriends to visiting relatives in this room. Out the window, you can see the gardenia bush(? Tree? Shrub?). Those white flowers are possibly my favorite in the world. The waxy petals and cloyingly sweet smell never fail to take me to that hill, regardless of where my feet are actually planted.
From that window in the dining room, go straight to that thick back door to the porch, where I 'learned to smoke' by sitting on those concrete steps while the older relatives had cigarettes, or in Uncle Arnold's case, at least, a cigar or two. I used to nap in that porch swing while Momma took care of Grandma. I've read so many library books on that painted swing. It got that coat of (now peeling) paint years ago. I think that Tori and I may have painted it actually. if memory serves, my cousin Joy (whose endeavor I think it was) painted the railing to the front door, and Ashley painted the ironwork on the front porch. Then again, it was years ago, and I hardly paid it much attention.
Back through the back door, down the hall on the left. The front bathroom, then the bedroom on the right, where Grandpa stayed when he was sick. Where Grandma stayed when she was sick. Where Paw-Paw sleeps now when he's there, with the bookshelf packed with paperback westerns right inside the door. Back down the hall some more. The back bathroom with the blue wallpaper. The huge hall closet that at one point had a porch light in it to illuminate the depths of it. Then down the steps to the back bedroom.
I never lived here in the sense that I slept there routinely, but it's home.
Jolie Holland's music takes me there, just like the smell of gardenia or the sound of crickets or a good sunset.
Well, time to run.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Stupid Quotes
So, I've had a lot more thought put into what I DON'T want in a relationship rather than what I do. There's something telling about me there, but I don't feel like dealing with that right now. Anyway, I got to thinking about the stupid song lyrics and movie quotes about the nature of love and relationships and the dynamics thereof. Here are a few that I'll never say to anyone. If I do, I'm clearly not in my right mind and need to be sedated and moved to a sanitarium.
First up, is a line from a song by Pink. Song title is 'Please Don't Leave Me', and the lyric is 'Please don't leave me.' If I'm fighting with you and we've been in a relationship of any sort that has just torn us both to shreds, I'm not going to beg you to stay. You want to leave? Fine. Maybe we can finally get past whatever this farce is and move on to become grownups.
~
Second, a line from the movie Hannibal with Anthony Hopkins and Julianne Moore. It's at a tense part of the movie, close to the ending of the climax.
Lecter: Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me, "Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop."
Starling: *pinned to a refrigerator, looks him square in the eyes* Never.
Lecter: *leans in, mouth open like he's going to bite her, then stops at the last moment and grins* That's my girl.
I'm with Starling here. Emotional blackmail never works on the people you need it to. Besides, if you're having a lovers' quarrel, that line probably won't get you anywhere. They did it because they wanted to. Love has nothing to do with it.
~
Marilyn Manson's song, "If I Was Your Vampire"
Lyric: I love you so much you should kill me now.
Granted, I probably shouldn't be looking for romantic inspiration in anything from Manson, but hey. I like the music, and the lyrics are clever most of the time. But I digress. Love isn't something that should make you want to die. Losing it shouldn't make you want to either, but it's not like I'm talking from experience here. "I love you so much, you should kill me now." Yeah. You should kill me and then the super awesome lovey feeling I've got going on can just flicker out like a firefly's ass. Yeah. That totally works. *super sarcastic eye roll* Love should make you want to live, not to die.
~
Alright... That's totally not all of them, but it's enough to get a decent rant going. As always, I appreciate your interest and would love to hear feedback. Yadda yadda yadda.
First up, is a line from a song by Pink. Song title is 'Please Don't Leave Me', and the lyric is 'Please don't leave me.' If I'm fighting with you and we've been in a relationship of any sort that has just torn us both to shreds, I'm not going to beg you to stay. You want to leave? Fine. Maybe we can finally get past whatever this farce is and move on to become grownups.
~
Second, a line from the movie Hannibal with Anthony Hopkins and Julianne Moore. It's at a tense part of the movie, close to the ending of the climax.
Lecter: Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me, "Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop."
Starling: *pinned to a refrigerator, looks him square in the eyes* Never.
Lecter: *leans in, mouth open like he's going to bite her, then stops at the last moment and grins* That's my girl.
I'm with Starling here. Emotional blackmail never works on the people you need it to. Besides, if you're having a lovers' quarrel, that line probably won't get you anywhere. They did it because they wanted to. Love has nothing to do with it.
~
Marilyn Manson's song, "If I Was Your Vampire"
Lyric: I love you so much you should kill me now.
Granted, I probably shouldn't be looking for romantic inspiration in anything from Manson, but hey. I like the music, and the lyrics are clever most of the time. But I digress. Love isn't something that should make you want to die. Losing it shouldn't make you want to either, but it's not like I'm talking from experience here. "I love you so much, you should kill me now." Yeah. You should kill me and then the super awesome lovey feeling I've got going on can just flicker out like a firefly's ass. Yeah. That totally works. *super sarcastic eye roll* Love should make you want to live, not to die.
~
Alright... That's totally not all of them, but it's enough to get a decent rant going. As always, I appreciate your interest and would love to hear feedback. Yadda yadda yadda.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
What I've Learned (Part 1)
I don't believe in reincarnation, but I don't not believe either. My belief system has gotten pretty complicated recently and I don't have a single problem with it, other than when I'm trying to talk to someone about it, I can't explain it as simply as I'd like to.
But that's not why I'm writing today. I decided to compile a list of a few of the things about Life that I've learned over the years. A lot of these have to do with being a friend or having friends, simply because that's what I've learned the most about.
For starters, as I've said before, just because you've known someone for years and hung out with them frequently, told them your secrets, doesn't mean a thing. Friendship isn't having stories to tell about time you've spent with people, although those are icing on the cake. Friendship is being there for someone. Allow me to insert two examples of what friendship isn't. I may just infuriate someone, considering that these are real life situations that include two people that consider themselves some of my closest friends. But whatever. I love them because I know them, even if I can't bring myself to like them much anymore.
Example 1: I met this guy online who happened to be a friend of a reliable classmate. They went to school together at one point and my classmate was willing to give character references to prove that the guy was who he said he was. So I gave him my number and we talked for a while. Eventually, he asked me to be his girlfriend. Granted, I hadn't met him in person, but my classmate was a reliable source of information, so I said yes. I know how ridiculous this is, but hey. I was a freshman in high school. I was stupid. Give me a break. A few months later, the friend that serves as the example in this case happened to get his number and start calling him. I knew about this and didn't see any problem. She was my friend. I had nothing to worry about. One day, she called me. I hadn't heard from him yet, which was no big deal. She was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. I asked her what was going on that had made her so happy. She said that he had asked her out. 'He' as in my boyfriend. So what did I do? I let her have him. He hadn't even broken up with me before he asked her. I'm fairly sure that she knew this. But I let her have him anyway. Seemed to be the best solution. Since this little episode, they've given birth to a kid. She's still having trouble with the guy, as well. She yo-yos between loving him to death and wanting to be his death. He yo-yos between being a loving and caring father and boyfrined and being an absent and callous jerk. Personally, I've decided to stop fighting it. They deserve each other.
Example 2: My grandmother had a cancer scare over the summer. I was at home, babysitting my twelve year old sister while our mother took Nena to MD Anderson in Houston. Tori was watching TV or asleep and I was standing in the kitchen, on my laptop, talking to friends. I was worried and stressed out and getting a taste of motherhood by having to take the minimal care necessary of an intelligent twelve year old. The house was dark except for whatever happened to be on the tv. I think I was cooking something in the oven at the time too. I was just joking around with one friend and in another window, I was 'listening' to another friend freaking out about whatever happened to be wrong with her that week. This particular friend (and example no. 2) has a habit of making the worst decisions possible and then blaming them on everyone but herself. I don't think she's accepted responsibility for a single one of her actions in her life. Moving on, she was complaining and I was tired of listening to it. I didn't care what drama she had going on with her flavor-of-the-week boyfriend. My beloved grandmother had a very strong possibility of having pancreatic cancer, one of the more complicated cancers to treat and one of the most devastating. So I told her what I was worried about. I don't remember her exact phrasing, but I do remember an 'oh'. No 'That's awful.' No 'What can I do?' No 'Do you need to talk to someone about it?' No 'I'm here for you.' No 'She'll be alright.' No 'Call me if you need anything.' No 'I don't care, let's go back to talking about me.' Just 'oh'. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but someone's grandmother having cancer is something where one of those would be appropriate, right? 'Oh' doesn't say it all. So yeah, this happened a few months back, and Nena's in the clear, but I'm still a little annoyed at the way she handled this. Her ex boyfriend with questionable morals and even more questionable motives faked more concern than she showed. Forgive my bitterness.
I've learned too that teachers can have influences on your life that you may not expect. I've seen what amazing people they are.
The first one that I'd like to mention was my teacher for six consecutive years. I got teasingly picked on like I remember my father doing before he left, I got chastised for my grades, and I got praised for the good that I had done. I know that this is how teachers are supposed to work and I wasn't special in the least, but that influenced me in ways that I don't think he knew. Thanks to him, I was able to have a relatively stable fatherly figure that I really needed at the time. He also taught me that playing small town politics isn't worth it with the way he handled several, obvious to me, instances of this. I don't think he knows that he taught me more than the school curriculum just by being who he was.
The second teacher that I want to include was only my teacher for one year, my senior year. She and I talked with another of my friends (who hasn't ever done anything against me) about just about anything. She trusted us with aspects of her past that I don't believe I could have ever told anyone. She is a remarkably strong woman and one to be seriously admired. I even offered information from the point of view that she sort of needed on a subject or two. I just hope that what I shared didn't lead her wrong. She deserves nothing but the utmost happiness and from what I've heard lately, she's getting it.
Another teacher was actually one of my professors here for a semester. The only relevant part to this little tangent I'm on was what he told us on the last day of class. He started telling us how to ace job interviews and advice on living life to the fullest. At the very end, he apologized and said, 'I'm not trying to be your dad or anything-'. I walked down to where he stood after class with a few other students, trying to figure out how to phrase what I was going to say. I had been really touched by that last speech, considering my as-of-yet unresolved issues with my own father. I ended up simply saying, 'You know how you apologized about 'daddy-ing' us? You shouldn't have. Some of us really needed to hear it.' I didn't realize that I'd teared up a little as I spoke those three lines until he patted my arm and smiled like I'd imagine a father would. I went back to my room and tried writing an email to my own father and ended up crying my eyes out. Someone that I had never spoken to personally until the last day of class had given me more fatherly advice than he had in twenty years. I think I had reason to cry.
So, what I've taken away from life so far is that friends don't stab you in the back or desert you in your time of need. Sometimes, you learn more from what people don't say and what they don't realize they've done that what they've intentionally taught you. You can mean more to someone than you could ever imagine.
But that's not why I'm writing today. I decided to compile a list of a few of the things about Life that I've learned over the years. A lot of these have to do with being a friend or having friends, simply because that's what I've learned the most about.
For starters, as I've said before, just because you've known someone for years and hung out with them frequently, told them your secrets, doesn't mean a thing. Friendship isn't having stories to tell about time you've spent with people, although those are icing on the cake. Friendship is being there for someone. Allow me to insert two examples of what friendship isn't. I may just infuriate someone, considering that these are real life situations that include two people that consider themselves some of my closest friends. But whatever. I love them because I know them, even if I can't bring myself to like them much anymore.
Example 1: I met this guy online who happened to be a friend of a reliable classmate. They went to school together at one point and my classmate was willing to give character references to prove that the guy was who he said he was. So I gave him my number and we talked for a while. Eventually, he asked me to be his girlfriend. Granted, I hadn't met him in person, but my classmate was a reliable source of information, so I said yes. I know how ridiculous this is, but hey. I was a freshman in high school. I was stupid. Give me a break. A few months later, the friend that serves as the example in this case happened to get his number and start calling him. I knew about this and didn't see any problem. She was my friend. I had nothing to worry about. One day, she called me. I hadn't heard from him yet, which was no big deal. She was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. I asked her what was going on that had made her so happy. She said that he had asked her out. 'He' as in my boyfriend. So what did I do? I let her have him. He hadn't even broken up with me before he asked her. I'm fairly sure that she knew this. But I let her have him anyway. Seemed to be the best solution. Since this little episode, they've given birth to a kid. She's still having trouble with the guy, as well. She yo-yos between loving him to death and wanting to be his death. He yo-yos between being a loving and caring father and boyfrined and being an absent and callous jerk. Personally, I've decided to stop fighting it. They deserve each other.
Example 2: My grandmother had a cancer scare over the summer. I was at home, babysitting my twelve year old sister while our mother took Nena to MD Anderson in Houston. Tori was watching TV or asleep and I was standing in the kitchen, on my laptop, talking to friends. I was worried and stressed out and getting a taste of motherhood by having to take the minimal care necessary of an intelligent twelve year old. The house was dark except for whatever happened to be on the tv. I think I was cooking something in the oven at the time too. I was just joking around with one friend and in another window, I was 'listening' to another friend freaking out about whatever happened to be wrong with her that week. This particular friend (and example no. 2) has a habit of making the worst decisions possible and then blaming them on everyone but herself. I don't think she's accepted responsibility for a single one of her actions in her life. Moving on, she was complaining and I was tired of listening to it. I didn't care what drama she had going on with her flavor-of-the-week boyfriend. My beloved grandmother had a very strong possibility of having pancreatic cancer, one of the more complicated cancers to treat and one of the most devastating. So I told her what I was worried about. I don't remember her exact phrasing, but I do remember an 'oh'. No 'That's awful.' No 'What can I do?' No 'Do you need to talk to someone about it?' No 'I'm here for you.' No 'She'll be alright.' No 'Call me if you need anything.' No 'I don't care, let's go back to talking about me.' Just 'oh'. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but someone's grandmother having cancer is something where one of those would be appropriate, right? 'Oh' doesn't say it all. So yeah, this happened a few months back, and Nena's in the clear, but I'm still a little annoyed at the way she handled this. Her ex boyfriend with questionable morals and even more questionable motives faked more concern than she showed. Forgive my bitterness.
I've learned too that teachers can have influences on your life that you may not expect. I've seen what amazing people they are.
The first one that I'd like to mention was my teacher for six consecutive years. I got teasingly picked on like I remember my father doing before he left, I got chastised for my grades, and I got praised for the good that I had done. I know that this is how teachers are supposed to work and I wasn't special in the least, but that influenced me in ways that I don't think he knew. Thanks to him, I was able to have a relatively stable fatherly figure that I really needed at the time. He also taught me that playing small town politics isn't worth it with the way he handled several, obvious to me, instances of this. I don't think he knows that he taught me more than the school curriculum just by being who he was.
The second teacher that I want to include was only my teacher for one year, my senior year. She and I talked with another of my friends (who hasn't ever done anything against me) about just about anything. She trusted us with aspects of her past that I don't believe I could have ever told anyone. She is a remarkably strong woman and one to be seriously admired. I even offered information from the point of view that she sort of needed on a subject or two. I just hope that what I shared didn't lead her wrong. She deserves nothing but the utmost happiness and from what I've heard lately, she's getting it.
Another teacher was actually one of my professors here for a semester. The only relevant part to this little tangent I'm on was what he told us on the last day of class. He started telling us how to ace job interviews and advice on living life to the fullest. At the very end, he apologized and said, 'I'm not trying to be your dad or anything-'. I walked down to where he stood after class with a few other students, trying to figure out how to phrase what I was going to say. I had been really touched by that last speech, considering my as-of-yet unresolved issues with my own father. I ended up simply saying, 'You know how you apologized about 'daddy-ing' us? You shouldn't have. Some of us really needed to hear it.' I didn't realize that I'd teared up a little as I spoke those three lines until he patted my arm and smiled like I'd imagine a father would. I went back to my room and tried writing an email to my own father and ended up crying my eyes out. Someone that I had never spoken to personally until the last day of class had given me more fatherly advice than he had in twenty years. I think I had reason to cry.
So, what I've taken away from life so far is that friends don't stab you in the back or desert you in your time of need. Sometimes, you learn more from what people don't say and what they don't realize they've done that what they've intentionally taught you. You can mean more to someone than you could ever imagine.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Friendship
It took me a while to learn the difference between people that know a lot about you and people that know you for who you are. I've only really known people that fall into the first category, at least until I got to SFA.
It's weird, having people that you've only just met understand you better than people that you've known for years. It's a supremely disconcerting feeling, but a nice one just the same. Sort of like being on a roller coaster. You actually enjoy the out-of-control feelings because you know you're safe, despite what the rest of your mind is saying.
I've met people that have changed me for the better. Whitney, for example. She's taught me patience and the value of true friendship. Sometimes, friendship isn't just about helping someone up. Sometimes, it's sitting down right beside them and just chilling for a while. I meant that figuratively, not literally. Those of you that know her probably took it too literally... Regardless of that, she's also taught me that real friends accept who you are. They don't threaten to tell your secrets or make you the object of jokes too often. They don't criticize you either, unless you need to hear it.
They're also there for you regardless of what they have going on. They don't use you when they need you and forget you when they don't. If it's the middle of the night and you're worried about something, they'll meet you in their pajamas and talk you through it. They don't judge. They just explain your problem in a way that makes you see that you'll get through it and conquer in the end. They protect you, from the world and from yourself. They don't make it a point to harass you for the flaws that you have or the vices they wish you did.
They actually want to know what's wrong when they ask. If you try to lie and change the subject, they won't let it happen. If you really don't want to talk, they reiterate that they're there for you and show you that they mean it.
They also confide in you and show you that they trust you. Their stories may be just stories sometimes, just a fun little braggart's tale for amusement, but they will tell you what bothers them when you ask. They will tell you their own troubles to help you understand yours or find a solution to your own problem. They don't make the conversation about them when you need help.
I've been thinking about the friends I have recently, the ones that are at my side and the ones that aren't. I love you all dearly, especially the ones that I've written about in this blog. To those of you that I will get to see today, thank you for making me smile and giving me a reason to like who I am and where I'm at. To those of you that I can't sit down with tonight, thank you for being the hugs I'm looking forward to and the smile I'm anxious to see again.
It's weird, having people that you've only just met understand you better than people that you've known for years. It's a supremely disconcerting feeling, but a nice one just the same. Sort of like being on a roller coaster. You actually enjoy the out-of-control feelings because you know you're safe, despite what the rest of your mind is saying.
I've met people that have changed me for the better. Whitney, for example. She's taught me patience and the value of true friendship. Sometimes, friendship isn't just about helping someone up. Sometimes, it's sitting down right beside them and just chilling for a while. I meant that figuratively, not literally. Those of you that know her probably took it too literally... Regardless of that, she's also taught me that real friends accept who you are. They don't threaten to tell your secrets or make you the object of jokes too often. They don't criticize you either, unless you need to hear it.
They're also there for you regardless of what they have going on. They don't use you when they need you and forget you when they don't. If it's the middle of the night and you're worried about something, they'll meet you in their pajamas and talk you through it. They don't judge. They just explain your problem in a way that makes you see that you'll get through it and conquer in the end. They protect you, from the world and from yourself. They don't make it a point to harass you for the flaws that you have or the vices they wish you did.
They actually want to know what's wrong when they ask. If you try to lie and change the subject, they won't let it happen. If you really don't want to talk, they reiterate that they're there for you and show you that they mean it.
They also confide in you and show you that they trust you. Their stories may be just stories sometimes, just a fun little braggart's tale for amusement, but they will tell you what bothers them when you ask. They will tell you their own troubles to help you understand yours or find a solution to your own problem. They don't make the conversation about them when you need help.
I've been thinking about the friends I have recently, the ones that are at my side and the ones that aren't. I love you all dearly, especially the ones that I've written about in this blog. To those of you that I will get to see today, thank you for making me smile and giving me a reason to like who I am and where I'm at. To those of you that I can't sit down with tonight, thank you for being the hugs I'm looking forward to and the smile I'm anxious to see again.
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