End

Its been 11 years since I started this blog. And before that I had another blog somewhere and I can't even remember the name of the blog host anymore since 2002. I started it as a way to share my feelings. With anyone who was willing to trawl through the wall of text. But, as you can tell, the blog postings became less and less frequent. Life took over. I didn't have time to write or rather share anything. I still have the feels.

You'd think at 31 life would just sort of start being automatic and preordained by society. Good job, wife, kids, house. All that good shit you were brought up on to believe that those are the necessary ingredients to a happy and fulfilling life. I don't have any of that. Only the first ingredient concerns me as it allows me to pay for shit I think I want but in reality, if I'm honest, I don't really need. But you know, capitalism and base desires and all that intellectual sounding bullcrap.

Like I said, life took over. I had 4 jobs in the last 8 years. Out of which I've only stayed at one for 3 years. The others rarely lasted more than a month. I could say that I was still searching for the right job but I know I'm not fooling anyone. I don't have my shit figured out. Life, which includes friends and family, have moved on way ahead of me and I'm still stuck here. By here I mean alone and awake at 2AM writing on a blog I hardly write on anymore, with no real purpose in life.

This melancholy this time was brought about the fact that Michelle is getting married. Fine. Get married. It's part of the journey or life or insert whatever cliche about life you want here. What has got me pissed off, illogically is this:

In regards to Michelle, her husband to be, surprise surprise, sees me as a threat and has asked Michelle to choose between me and him. Stop me if you haven't heard of that before. It's happened every fucking time with all her relationships. Yeah, yeah. We're good friends and I'm her unconditional security blanket and all that good shit. She was nice enough when she was single but after the relationship comes in, our friendship always gets puts on ice. To her credit, she did try to fight for it but in the end, inevitable, my friendship really didn't mean anything . And I'm sick of that shit. So that's the end of the friendship after 16 years. It was the second longest friendship I had after Jas. But sure, piss it all away. Because love-always-wins.

The above situation shouldn't really get me angry if I think about it logically. I mean, Michelle is far away from me and absence makes the heart grow colder. She doesn't really impact my life in any way other than friendship and camaraderie. So why the fuck am I angry then?

I'll tell you why; its because I have some screwed up false notion that she owes me some sort of obligation not to betray my trust and my feelings. I don't know where the fuck this comes from. Because she obviously doesn't. I'm clearly not someone who means a whole lot in her life either. And I think I found the crux of it. I'm mad at myself. For allowing myself to trust.

I'll be frank. Before I wrote this paragraph I had written a long angry, emo, 3 paragraph spiel about not trusting people because people will invariably hurt you one way or the other. After having to take a piss and a smoke, I deleted it. Because in a moment of epiphany, I realized that its just one person out of the 40 or so other people which I really care about and trust with all my heart. She doesn't
matter in the long run but the other 39 do (at least until they hurt you too but we'll cross that bridge when we get there).

Yeah, I'll still hurt for a while. Especially due to our long, shared past. But I'll get over it eventually. And knowing that that eventuality WILL come makes me feel slightly better. I could really use a Red Horse now though. But alas, I apparently don't drink anymore. At least when I'm not on vacation anyway.

I chose the subject title of this blog because when I first started writing, I wanted to close this blog. I
hardly write anymore and I'm pretty sure that half the people who are apparently my followers are in reality just fucking bots. Plus I keep a journal. You know, the old school type where you actually have to use a writing instrument to write your thoughts down on pages and stuff. But I find that I'm reluctant to do so now. I mean, it has been 11 years. Sentimentality is a hell of a feeling. So, I'm just
going to leave it open for now. I'll write in both mediums, time and thought permitting.

Those of you who actually do read this whole messy, spelling error littered, grammatical nightmare wall of text, thank you. Really. You could have been watching porn or stalking your crush but you actually took the time which you will never get back to read the emo rantings of some weird guy.

Thank you.