I’ve noticed a pattern. It seems to occur about the same time each year; I’m hit with this tidal wave of unrelenting, discomposure and distress, which more often than not- (God bless my Latin descent) results in pure, exasperated, supreme rage. The focal point of disarray varies from year to year, so at least this mercury retrograde lookalike tries to keep it fresh every November.
Bullshit ranging anywhere from my revolving door of sometimes shitty, normally unfulfilling jobs, to the night my cat died unexpectedly and traumatically at 3am, or even just the torturous holidays spent with my cynical, condemnatory family, all the way to psycho broads that lied for years about being my friend, even that one time I almost died on the way home from working a 2 hour shift- November never fails to bring an excess of emotional turmoil in it’s purest form. Every year I know it’s coming but god damn, I am never ready.
This year it seems as if it started up early, culminating Mid-October and then by November 16th (typically D-Day) things were full fledged out of fucking control, mayday mayday, we are going all the way down.
I’m trying to not get off-topic here but all the aforementioned crises have me launched into story-telling mode, while this entry is really about one thing: Friends. Now let me be clear because I’m not talking about “used to know her from high school-used to work in the same office-she knew my old roommate-we used to be neighbors” friends- I’m talking some real down ass bitches that are there for you not when you need them- but every god damn day.
The friends that know what you’re doing this weekend, on Tuesday. The friends that have the pep talks ready for you before you’ve even shown obvious signs of needing one. The friends that can e-mail you something without asking first what your e-mail address is. The friends that you talk to every single day, out of habit. The friend that doesn’t leave the conversation without telling you you’re loved. The friend that knows what your baggage is, and also skips passing judgment on it. The friend that says things to you, not about you.
Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that it’s hella rude to call someone Friend, but fail to ever actually treat them like one.
Ice Cream Queen out.
Wild Little Hare 