You won’t see that, but I still needed to write it.
Just like maybe you knew your words would hold no meaning to me, but you felt you needed to write those too.
I shouldn’t feel guilty for being so upset over that incident.
I was kind, perhaps more eager for a friend than is socially acceptable, but genuinely interested in having a new friend. A friend I thought was cute, but realistically sought as a friend for that was all to be realized. We spoke of being honest with people, in not wearing masks or feigning kindness where we felt none. Yet you could not do me the simple gesture of ever speaking to me again after those 24 hours of charity kindness were up. Not even a simple “I’m very busy and can’t talk or meet up”, silence. Then months later, a halfhearted attempt at feigning care for my life when its value to you was made abundantly clear earlier.
I had every right to be upset.
At least when those I claim to care about someone and they contact me, I respond. I let them know that even if I can’t see them, that if I’ve been caught up in my own shit I at least will take whatever time I can to send back a message that I care to listen, that when I am able, I will give my time in person, because I fully understand how important small gestures are in expressing love and concern for someone.
When you lose someone, you start to think of every time you could have given them another minute. Every time you could have had lunch with them instead of whoever you ate lunch with 7 days a week. Every time you noticed they didn’t look very happy, but were too self involved to take the time to reach out.
It’s even worse when you’re worried about losing someone, because you want to let them know you care without giving off the impression that you’re worried for them. You want to be there, but you don’t want to smother them. You want them to know but you don’t want to say it, lest you wound their pride. A pride you know only too well, as it is what makes you test yourself against death, and what keeps you alive when you do.
So don’t pretend to care about someone.
Don’t extend a hand, unless when and if they reach back you’re ready to hold on and not ever just let go as if on a whim.
Mufasa died because he reached for the paw offered to him and it was insincere, not because he was too weak to climb from the gorge.
If you aren’t able to put substance into a gesture, stick your hands in your pockets and keep walking.
Such folks need someone real, they have enough phantom friends.
i hate asking people for things
Like a stone by Daniel Parent