The Cheese Shoppe

The Tale Of A Heart

Once I had a heart.
A wonderful heart full of magic, whimsy, love, and dreams.
An exceptional heart. An amazing heart. A wise and romantic heart.

She had had a heart that harmonized and synchronized with mine.
A perfect balance of similarity and complementary.
We opened ourselves and shared our hearts, unequivocally and in totality.

She cared for my heart like no one ever had.
Made it do backflips in the vibrant sun.
Discovered new rooms, dimensions and qualities that no words can describe.

Until the day it ended.
Suddenly and unexpectedly.
With no room for conversation or compromise.

A painful hole where my heart once was.
Ragged, black, scarred edges.
A place where nothing can grow.

This is the reality of my heartless existence now.

If I let it be.
If I choose that perspective.
If I let that be my identity.

And I do have a choice.
We have far more choice than we think or feel.
But we do.

So I let that voice have its say.
And I let my heart hide away.
But I feel its beat.

I am a Love Warrior.
Scarred and scared, but alive and strong.
My heart forever the beat of my song.

My Journey To Atlantis and Beyond

I had an item. The exact details of this item are unimportant, personal, and will not be detailed here. It was a special item to me that I had acquired shortly after my last breakup, over two years ago. It was a totem. A token representing love to me. I have a tendency to anthropomorphize a little too much so this item was alive to me. I spoke to it. Especially when I couldn’t speak to her. It was also a conduit, a connection.

Now, I’m sure many of you at this point are probably thinking that it sounds like something I should have been rid of long ago, but we each have to walk our own path, be true to ourselves and no words will do this item, or my relationship with it, justice. For me, it was a symbol or unconditional, unwavering love, despite any obstacles, storms, logistically unfortunate circumstances. It was a symbol of a promise that I had made. A badge of being a steadfast Love Warrior. I figured I would probably keep it until such time as someone new entered my life, if that is to happen, or else until such time as it felt like it was time to let it go.

A while back, I started using a dice rolling app when I was having a hard time deciding between two things. I would ask the universe which way I should go, and then use the virtual 2 sided “die” to get my answer, choosing to believe that it was universe answering me and not just random digital bits giving me a meaningless random outcome. Over the last two years, I had checked in with this item at least a couple of times to see if it was time to let it go. The last time I remember was just before I left for my six month journey on the cruise ship. When I asked then, it told me that it should come with me, so I brought it. Over the course of my time here (at this point, I’m just about at the halfway point of the 6 month contract), I started to get the feeling that maybe one of the ports of call would be where it would get released.

Yesterday, I stood out on the bow of the ship, held the item in my hand and found myself afraid to ask it the question. In fear that it was time. Part of me laughed at the ridiculousness of all this, but never the less, it was a real feeling. So I told it to show me a “1” if it was time to let it go, or a “2” if I was to keep it around for now. I hesitated tapping the screen, and then willed myself to do it, closing my eyes for just a moment. And there it was on the screen. “1”. Tears filled my eyes. I rushed back to my cabin and cried for a few minutes. Tears that I felt had been just below the surface for quite some time, and yet at least partially surprised me at their appearance. Tears that come back now as I write this. I let the feelings and tears flow until they were done and then made peace with it. I spent lat night, another “Elegant Evening,” walking around the ship with the item in my pocket. Eating, listening to music, just feeling the energy of life and all the people around me.

This morning, after a safety drill, I left the ship with the item. My initial plan was to go to a nearby beach spot behind a hotel and let it go there, but then I remembered that across the water was a popular resort called “Atlantis,” and something about that just called to me. Plus, I liked the fact that it was a bit of a trek. Not much, only a mile or two at most, but still I liked the idea of having a walk and making it feel a little more like a journey and a mission. I walked across the huge Sydney Poitier bridge and as I neared Atlantis is was starting to sprinkle a bit. As I got closer it started raining harder but I would not be deterred. Besides, it’s not like there was anywhere I could really go. I arrived at Atlantis soaking wet. It was impressive. Very cool Atlantean decor. I went inside and wandered around a bit, enjoying some huge indoor aquariums. It very much reminded me of the two posh resorts where I had stayed in Cancun with my ex when we were dating. Unfortunately, I found there was no beach access unless you were a guest so I headed back out. I eventually found out through messaging my band mates and talking to some locals that there was a public beach further down the road in the opposite direction, so I set out that way. Eventually I saw the “Beach Access” signs and followed to a beach (Cabbage Beach, I think).

I was in luck. It was high tide and there were huge, crashing waves. I found a spot a little further down that was less busy where a couple were enjoying playing in the giant waves. They looked about as high as a person not very far out, and were coming way up the beach. I took off my shoes and put my phone, wallet and ID in them, then stuffed my socks in, and wrapped it all up with my NASA shirt, and set the bundle on a beach chair, safe from any incoming waves. I walked just a little way toward the ocean, and each wave would bury my feet up to the ankles in sand, and threaten to pull my legs out from under me. I took the item from my pocket. I had contemplated the ramifications of letting the ocean have it, and determined that I didn’t think it do any harm. Nothing, plastic or harmful. Somehow, this is just what felt right. I thanked the item for its support and comfort over the years, and said it was time to release that energy back into the universe and the largest, most powerful force on the planet, the ocean. I said a lot more to both the item and to the ocean, but those words were just for them. As another huge wave rolled in, I plunged my hands deep into the sand and let the item go. I stood there for a while, with each powerful wave moving lots of sand. I never saw the item go, but I’m fairly positive it would have been carried away powerfully and quickly.

This wasn’t goodbye. This wasn’t a death. This wasn’t grieving or mourning. The item wasn’t her and she wasn’t the item. For better and worse it was too easy to anthropomorphize the item. This wasn’t any admission of defeat or hopelessness. It was simply a step in healing and letting go of the past. Trying to always be more present. This was saying that I trust the universe. Releasing control. Believing that whatever path I am on is always the path I need to be on. This was knowing that even if some crazy timeline brought this woman back into my life in the future, it would be a new beginning and not a continuation of the past. The item was a token of love, but it was also a token of pain and desperation. Too often we hold on to our pain. Swaddle ourselves in it. Weave identities from it. It is a particularly human trait that I’ll never understand. I don’t need the item to be a Love Warrior, or to send wishes of love and happiness to her into the universe. It has no bearing on any connection I may or may not have. Like almost everything in life, I have a choice as to how I view all this. It doesn’t have to “a thing.” It doesn’t have to be painful. It can easily be viewed as positive. A new beginning. Leaving behind pain. Letting go of that which doesn’t serve us. Our perspective is quite often much more in our control than we think. I’ll never forget the item. I’m sure I’ll even miss the item when my ego and pain body starve for food and try to poke the sore places, but its watch is done. As is this step of my spiritual journey. In the end, I walked over severn miles. I hadn’t eaten all day so on my way back, I stopped at Phoenix Chinese food, where I had eaten once before and had some of the best Chinese food I have ever had. As I write this back in my cabin on the ship, I feel like Samwise at the end of Lord of the Rings. Don’t get me wrong, my journey was nothing like his, but it was epic in its own very small way.

“Well, I’m back,” he said.

Heartbreak Vs. Death

I find it interesting that in general I am very hesitant to post things of a darker, heavier nature. It’s always more pensive and philosophical in my head, but I fear it sounds more depressed or depressing when expressed. I find it also interesting that this is why I am am expressing these particular ruminations here on my blog. Because, generally, not many read it and people are pretty hesitant to leave the walled gardens of Facebook and such to read things externally. SO in a weird way, the fact that my website gets next to no traffic makes it a safer, more private space. And yet, if I’m writing something publicly then why do I care about “privacy” at all? I could not write it or write in a private blog or journal. I do not have an answer for that question. I just know I want to express these thoughts, but not necessarily to the widest audience possible but I’m also not afraid of anyone finding or reading this. So, in short, I don’t understand my brain either, but here we are.

I’ve discovered that, for me, heartbreak is worse than death. Death as in losing a loved one, not as in my own death. Because while I don’t fear death and have on occasion, kind of wished that my time was up, that’s a very “permanent solution to temporary problems,” as I’ve heard it put. Now I feel there’s a few very important facts related to this highly individual and personal opinion:

  1. I have lost people I was very close to including my father, so I do know that kind of loss.
  2. BUT, I am also someone who deals with death very well. I am very zen about it. It’s a part of life and I know that my loved ones would not want me to be sad or suffer when they’re gone, just as I wouldn’t want that of others. I believe our culture really fears it and feels that we should be utterly shattered and devastated by it. This is really a whole other can of worms, as I believe we have far more choice than we think we do about our feelings, but I also know that it’s not as simple as “Well, hey, just don’t feel that way!”
  3. This is simply an expression of my thoughts and opinions and not at all an attempt to sway anyone else’s opinion. However you feel about it all, your feelings are completely valid and there is no “right” or “wrong” here. This is in no way meant to diminish or trivialize any loss anyone has felt or feels. It’s all so personal and individual.

In death, someone leaves this plane of existence as we know it. We miss them. It sucks. Depending on your personal beliefs on death and what, if anything, happens afterward, your experience with it will likely be completely unique from anyone else’s. I’m not sure exactly what I believe, but the scientific law of Conservation of Energy states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only change forms. So nothing is ever “destroyed” or completely gone. Our energy continues to exist somehow. Maybe it gets reincarnated. Maybe recycled into stars, trees, rocks, gas, everything. Maybe there’s ghosts, souls, spirits. Many possibilities, but it is science that our energy will definitely continue to exist in some form, whether it be sentient or not.

In general, we are not given a choice about it. My father didn’t choose to die of pancreatic cancer. He most certainly didn’t choose to die of pancreatic cancer because I was somehow not a good enough son. I don’t think I even shed a tear (again, I”m pretty good at dealing with death). Sure I miss teh hell out of him and wish he was still here, but I’m at peace with it, as he would want me to be.

Now in a heartbreak, especially and particularly a non-mutual breakup, someone makes the active choice to no longer be with you. Now there can be any number of reasons that this supposedly has nothing to do with you or your worth. They just need to “figure their own shit out,” or sometimes despite you both being great people, you just aren’t compatible as a couple. I’ve heard many different, totally legitimate reasons from people who weren’t just full of shit or making excuses or whatever. And to be clear, I’m talking generally, not about just my own personal experiences.

But in the end, that person chooses not to be with you. People will tell you, “They’re an idiot. If they don’t see your worth, you deserve better any way,” or any other number of platitudes. The thing is, even if you know your self worth, even if you have great self-esteem and love the hell out of yourself, it doesn’t change the fact that the one person you choose, does not choose you. And that one indisputable fact lodges in the back of your mind like a little, black, poisonous seed. It infects your subconscious.

“I’m very happy with who I am. I think I’m a good person!”
But not good enough for them.
“I am special. I’m an amazing partner. I am seriously a magical unicorn of a catch.”
Hmm, and yet they had no problem moving on and deleting your existence from their life.
“What we had was true love. Magical. A bond beyond this world. No one will ever compare to me!”
Except that new person. And probably a bunch of other people. Maybe you’ll wind up in the top 10.

It will fuck with your self-esteem. Like Wormtongue to King Théoden of Rohan in The Lord of the Rings books (and films). I consider myself to have a very strong mind. A very strong mindfulness and meditation practice. An extraordinary sense of self-awareness. Yet even my tools and defenses are not enough to make me impervious to this insidious poisoning. You question everything you think. Everything you know. Unlike a death, this is a choice. And you know this person is walking through life everyday. Without you. Each day, a constant reminder of their choice to not be with you. Might as well set a Calendar alert. “DING! Tuesday: [person’s badly mispronounced name] still chooses not to be with you!” Because somehow you fell short. You were deficient. You were not good enough for them to want to continue sharing a life with you. It doesn’t matter if they’re “wrong,” “blind,” “stupid,” “self-destructive,” “delusional,” or any other adjectives anyone wants to apply. The end result is the same. They do not choose you, Pikachu. It’s almost like reliving a death daily.

I think this is compounded by the fact that I’ve never really “dated.” It’s really rare for me to connect with someone on that level so I only really bother when it feels like something really special that might last a lifetime. So if that ends, it feels like a tremendous loss of something exceedingly rare and precious. A loss of a huge part of life. So much time and history invested and now you’re back at square one.

“Buck up, Buddy! Time heals all wounds!”

Shut yer platitude hole. I know them all. Yes, I’m working on “me” and self-improvement. Yes, whatever I feel is valid and okay and I don’t beat myself up.
The Law of Attraction says you can manifest any reality you want by just picturing the way you want it and then genuinely feeling the feelings and gratitude of having that thing! Live and think as if it’s already reality!
But Eckhart Tolle says all pain comes from resisting what is and not accepting the now and living in the past or future. Now I quite like both the Law of Attraction philosophy and Tolle’s writings but these two things seems directly at odds to me. (Please keep any disparaging opinions on these or any other philosophies or new age ideals to yourself; my intent is not to bag on them but to point out that sometimes even our own beliefs can be contradictory and confusing). Can a person walk in two worlds simultaneously? Not giving up hope while also continuing forward?

I know it’s all about perspective and so much is just the lies that our egos and fears use to feed themselves but that doesn’t necessarily make it easier. So, while I understand it may be a controversial statement and not true for many others, for me, heartbreak is worse than death.

Well, shit. I don’t know how to salvage this into some cheery ending. Go Google some cute baby animal videos or something. Those are always awesome spirit lifters!

State of the Eaf Address

For some reason I feel the need to say this. To let you all behind the curtain for a moment. The last year or so has been one of the toughest of my life, for a lot of reasons. The end of my 7 year marriage, followed by another intense and passionate relationship that ended very badly (in some ways, although we are still friends), the usual ups and downs of career, friendships, creative relationships and all the stuff we all have to deal with from time to time.

There was a time when I pretty much lived completely openly online. Good, bad and ugly, I put it all out there for anyone who cared to see. Over the years, I’ve changed and started trying to pretty much keep it all positive. I don’t really care to expose everything to the world at large any more (and besides, no one wants to hear a bunch of “woe is me, feel my pain” BS) but for some reason I just felt somehow deceptive or something sort of keeping this all to myself.

Now here’s the thing: my life is 95% amazing and awesome. But then there’s the 5%. A toxic 5% that somehow seems to permeate, infect and somehow seem to counteract the other 95%. It casts a grey funk that sits just below the surface, like when you have a dull throbbing headache so subtle that you’re not even sure if you have a headache but yet it still saps you.

Obviously, some days are better, some worse, but I feel stuck, like the weight of my past has finally become too heavy and I can’t get out from under it. I know I will and it’s kind of weird because there is still plenty of happiness present within me. I’m not some depressed wreck or anything. Just that constant dull throbbing, dulling everything else. A part of me that seems broken and damaged. I’ve loved so deeply that I’ve left pieces of myself behind each time and now there’s not enough left to want to try again.

Now I’m no fool. I know myself. Eternal, hopeless romantic. I know that the day will come when I will meet someone who makes me go all Googly eyed and there will be full on double rainbows, all the way and all that. But for the moment, I’m so sick of this weight. Of the inability to escape my past, enjoy the present and look to the future.

So in short, if I’ve been less than the greatest of friends lately, it’s not you, it’s me. To quote Billy Joel, “When I’m deep inside of me, don’t be too concerned. I won’t ask for nothing while I’m gone.”

I love you all and appreciate all my friends immensely, even if I can also be a misanthrope and a loner. I’m a complicated man and no one understands me but…uhh…wait, no, that’s “Shaft.” Ah well, works for me too.

Can someone help me understand myself?

I have always been anti-smoking. My mom has smoked for pretty much my entire life and I always hated it. Hated the smell. Hated that I seem to be extra sensitive to smoke. The slightest whiff, even from quite some distance can choke me up. For example, tonight, several people were smoking on the balcony with the door open and I had to close my bedroom door because I could smell it. Of course there’s also the extreme amount of money smokers spend and the whole issue of supporting the evil tobacco companies and plenty of other rational arguments that could be made even if you’re one of the people who believes that there is no scientific evidence that smoking is linked to health problems, but that’s a whole other subject and I don’t want to start that debate here. My issue is more personal.
The part I don’t understand is my own vehement reaction to it. With everything going on with Jess, I think one of things that hurts the most is that she has started smoking again. She smoked before I knew her but had quit before we met. The fact that it even registers on my radar sounds ridiculous even to me. Why do I care so much? Why is it such a big deal? Why is it so important to me that my loved ones not smoke? I feel the same sense of hurt and distance when Larry occasionally smokes too. Now don’t get me wrong, I know that no one is doing it to be hurtful or anything. I just don’t understand why it means so much to me. The first time I saw jess light up on our balcony, let’s just say my reaction was completely and irrationally emotional. Maybe because of our separation my subconscious read more into it like because she knows how much it means to me maybe I stupidly saw it as a big final “fuck you” which, of course, I know it isn’t. I’m sure we all know the stupid things we can think when we’re emotional.
But the fact is is that is a big deal to me and I don’t know why. I don’t think it’s a judgmental thing, but admittedly I could be wrong. I don’t think any less of her for it and I don’t think I’m better than people who smoke. I really do think it’s more of a connection thing. It makes me feel distant and disconnected and I do legitimately worry about the health of the people I love and supporting the evil empires of tobacco (which ironically is a trait directly instilled in me by Jess). To me it feels like it comes from a place of caring and concern and not a confrontational or judgmental place. I value my connections with people and anything that interfers with those connections bothers me.
I just don’t understand why I feel the way I do. I don’t want it to interfere with my connection. Why can’t I just not care about it? When Larry smokes, I feel down. When Jess smokes it’s of a whole other order of magnitude. It feels like it almost hurts as much as our separation which should be ludicrous! I’m sure there must be some deep subconscious motivation at work here. I just can’t figure out what it is. I’m really trying to be better about this and at least not be judgmental or sanctimonious about my feelings. I’d love to find the root of this and find a way to overcome it.

Clogged

When I’m at my lowest points (such as now) and have all these pessimistic negative feelings, I don’t know what to do with them. I decided that I don’t feel comfortable expressing them here for various reasons, I can’t talk to Jess about them, and talking to anyone else doesn’t seem to really help all that much. This makes being caught between the Scylla and Charybdis seem like an appealing vacation idea.

So I guess it’s time.

I’ve avoided making this entry for a long time. Why I’m not sure. I guess for one I didn’t really want to talk about it. Also I didn’t really know if it was just a temporary thing or not.
Jess and I are separated. Have been for a few weeks now. We’d talked long and hard about it before coming to this resolution. There was no one thing, no big blow up, no cheating, no drama, no single event that brought this on. I do however think that while it was mutual, it’s mostly me who broke it. I don’t like it, I’m not happy about it. I think the separation has had the opposite effect on each of us. It’s pushed me more toward wanting to work things out and pushed her further toward thinking that life apart is the way to go. She’s moved on, written “The End” and closed the book. I think we’ve both moved 180 degrees and completely swapped places. At least I can’t help but laugh at the karmic irony.
That is all. Just thought I should let anyone know who didn’t already. Thank you all in advance for the sentiments but I don’t need words of comfort, as there is none to be had. If anyone still reads this blog anyway, I know you all care. Thank you.

Listless in Seatt…err…Austin

MIA: One Joie de Vivre. Yesterday I did nothing. I’ve been working twelve hour days, and some weekend time for the last several weeks. Doing not much more than working and sleeping, usually having time to watch one TV show with Jess before bed. Initially we thought we were going to have to work Saturday and Sunday so when we got Sunday off, I quite looked forward to just shutting off and becoming a human vegetable for a day which is pretty much what I did.

More >

My archnemesis, Darin Murphy

I have decided that Darin Murphy is my arch-nemesis. Who is Darin Murphy? Ahh, where to start.
Darin Murphy is a professional working musician here in Austin. I actually remember him and his sister Trish Murphy playing around College Station many years ago when I lived there. When I first moved to Austin and started trying to do some freelance work with that studio here writing jingles, I quickly found that there was this little clique of artists who get most of the work there. One of these people was Darin Murphy. As time went on, I heard his name (and that of the others in the elite cadre of musicians) more and more. I would hear him performing on the morning radio show. Then I heard about how he had been cast in the Broadway show, “Lennon” and moved to New York temporarily while he was in the show. It was especially noted that he he was the only person cast who had no acting experience at all, but had still impressed people so much and knew some great contacts. As I read his blog it just depressed me that this guy seemed to have it made. He seemed to be my successful twin. There was definitely a kindred spirit thing there too. A familiarity. I didn’t hate him. On the contrary, I felt like we’d probably be great friends and have a lot in common artistically and personally, but he seemed to be somewhat living the life that I so often feel is missing. He seemed like an alternate me who had usurped one of the better time lines that I could have followed leaving me in this time line disconnected and wanting. He is what I could have been.
As I studied up on my nemesis, I found out that he’s also in a cover band called the K-tel Hit Machine. The other members of the band are those same compadres from the Elite Cadre clique whose names seem to keep wafting into my life like a taunt. The band sounded exactly like something I would be a part of or would have started. I heard them on the radio this morning. They were awesome. I hate them.
Darin Murphy has stolen my soul. While he isn’t necessarily living my dream life 100%, he’s living what I see as a most realistic version of what could be a point in my journey to my life’s ultimate destination. He’s like my doppelganger living a version of my life that I’ve yearned for. This is the stuff comic book villains are made of. I don’t really hate him, of course. I envy and respect him, but it’s much more fun to blow it up into some mythical duality where he’s somehow cosmically stolen my life and therefore he is my arch-nemesis. I seem to constantly be taunted by references and allusions to this whole musical league of super heroes, and with each occurrence, the wind is sucked out of my sails.
He lives the life while I do what I’ve always done…dream.

More Karma with 42% More Misanthropy

For the record, while I’m a bit grumpy and misanthropic today, this post probably sounds much more gloomy than I actually feel. Just a heads up that in reality I’m doing pretty damn good, and am not in some kind of deep funk or anything.
I realized today that I hate people. This includes most of my friends who I really like. I hate them too. They’re all annoying. Let me ‘splain.
Most of our friends fall into at least one if not several of the following categories:

  • Have or are having children
  • Are impossible to get a hold of
  • Have their lives dictated by other people
  • Are so hard to coordinate any time with that launching a space shuttle or getting a bill through congress look easy by comparison
  • Live or are going to live very far away (very far ranging from 30 minutes to another country)
  • A litany of other self absorbed selfish gripes

Take my cousin for example (as a complete side note, I absolutely can not write “cousin” without writing “cousing” and then correcting it).
Now I only use him as an example because a)he illustrates many of my points, b) he is the most amusing example, and c) I don’t think he ever reads this. So this not to pick on him, just to illustrate my point.
He has always been like a brother to me and is one of my favorite people in the world to hang out with. I thought it would be so great when we moved to Austin because then I’d get to see him all the time! The first barrier to this is getting a hold of him. It is such a farce that we’ve come to call it the “Casey lottery”. If we do actually reach him we jump and yell and celebrate winning the Casey Lottery. As you could probably guess, Casey does not have a cell phone, nor does he want one, and in fact is vehemently against owning one, bu that’s another story.
The strangest part of the fact that he is never home is that when we do see him he usually can’t ever stay away from home for very long because he has to get back to take care of his pets. This makes any kind of trip out of town next to impossible. There is a whole sub-irony to that fact due to how often he is watching other friend’s pets for them while their gone (which seems very often), so you would think he’d have a plethora of people willing to do the same. He can’t ever leave home for too long, and yet he’s never home. It’s a mystery/enigma burrito. Of course we often hear about other trips he took to camping or go out of town with other friends, so that pretty much leaves the option that he hates us.
If you do manage to get a hold of him, finding a time to actually do anything with him is a whole other hurdle. Even if we manage to get together with him for some particular purpose (like filming part of our movie yesterday), as soon as business is done he usually has to go. He’s tired. He has to wash clothes. He has to go kick his dog. Again, leading to the inevitable conclusion that he hates us.
Another big part of his presence being as common as ice skating on the river Styx is the fact that he is very popular and unfortunately has many friends who are extremely demanding, guilt trippy and far more aggressive and effective than we are at grabbing his time. He’s obviously hanging out somewhere all the time, but it’s not with us, nor are we ever invited. There’s this whole separate group of friends who we know and like, yet can’t crack into ourselves. It’s the secret Casey society, and we don’t know the handshake.
There was a time when I thought we would make the greatest roommates ever. At one point I proposed this to him since he lived in a three bedroom house all by himself, and he very politely shot me down saying he was enjoying living by himself for the time in his life. That was fair enough actually, but it was kind of the crushing blow that made realize the cold hard truth: My high regard and brotherly affection for my cousin was not a two way street.
This is an important fact. Important because it is a recurring theme in my life. Whenever there is someone I really want to be good friends with, it is rarely ever reciprocated. I’ve written before about being so excited to find old friends and wanting to strike up th old friendship only to be met but polite indifference and only when I initiate contact.
I have decided this must be Karma. Karma because I, in fact, am a totally crap friend. I suck at keeping in touch with people, and have let more great friendships fall by the wayside than some people ever have. So I guess it’s only right that the people who I really want to hang out with and get to know better, or foster real lasting friendships with don’t always feel the same way. It was quite a realization to me. If you believe in anything like karma then it really does fit.
Thus I have become a huge misanthrope and it only seems to get worse as I get older. People are annoying. Even my friends. They probably say the same about me.