Still talking about him.

He is like a roller coaster ride in the dark, with ups and downs that come from anywhere and no where. He doesn’t get that being a friend to someone else isn’t always convenient nor is it always pleasant. He doesn’t seem to grasp the concept, can’t seem to understand that you can’t be a friend only when you feel like it.

I guess that is sort of hypocritical given that I often disappear from the lives of my friends for months at a time, emerging only when I’m sick of myself. But, if anyone were to call me and say come rescue me from this dark alley or help me move for the fifth time this year, I’d be there. And my best of friends somehow manage to make me feel like no time has passed, that nothing has changed. They don’t seem to mind not knowing me, letting me interject their lives when and where I please, living in the moment. Because when I say I don’t care, I really don’t. I think there is magic in the experience, something liberating that comes from letting things just happen. I’m no revolutionary.

In my family there is a strange dynamic. My parents never acted very parent like. They weren’t so interested in my grades, my curfew, just in the dishwasher getting emptied and the dog taken out. I made my own choices and suffered the consequences. They commented from the sideline, much to my annoyance, but there were never any rules. Out of habit, all conflict was resolved internally, nothing ever required the validation of someone else and right or wrong, it’s just how things were and are. I don’t know if this is a result of my parents having been so young and also caring for my much younger sisters, leaving little leftover for me or if I just came wired this way.

Whatever it is, most people don’t seem to get it, especially not him.