Like A Teddy Bear

The gossip tree has a dangerous limb to crawl on; the thin branch of trust. An experience is told, in confidence, or at least reaching out for understanding and sympathy, and I trust my life won't be plastered in the thoughts of every open ear. I don't talk about who I am to anyone; I pick my friends carefully, I tell select few and I trust very little. And once again, I've been shown why I don't trust others.

It's not a betrayal. To betray there would have to be an ounce of hope in the other party. To betray, the other person would have to have character, merit, class. This is not betrayal. This is verification that nothing matters to a lot of people. Scratch that - Nothing matters to some people except for themselves. To be the person with the secret. To have others lean in and be invested in what you're saying. To be the big shot. I know something you don't know. The word pathetic comes to mind, but in fact everyone loves the notion that they are in the loop and can inform someone of the juicy details; the gossip; the dirt. Why is the world so focussed on up-to-the-minute details about people they don't even know? Imagine when the tale is about someone you know. Your co-worker is doing what? Taking advantage of the need-to-know urge in others is the lowest of the low, but not surprising.

So now I'm the drunk. Now he's the creep. Now I stand here in the depth of a lie, of a tarnished image I can't clean and I'm sinking. I want to scream, defend, argue ... but all I manage is a few (hundred) tears at four o'clock in the morning. My private life is a discussion between my friends. They look at me differently, talk behind my back, judge and snicker. I have the scarlet letter plastered on my chest, and unlike Hester, I didn't put it there, I'm not proud, and I don't deserve it.

I'm still sweet. I still have feelings. I have my own image I'm trying to build. The person I'm trying to be isn't who everyone is now thinking. My efforts are dashed. Reconstructing from the ground up is hard, especially when people have a preconceived notion. So my verdict is to what? Do I push on, ignore my anxieties? Do I kick up the dirt and throw mud in her eyes? Neither. I'm stuck in a roundabout where I can't find the right exit to get me on the road to a life without this. Round and round the garden. Like a teddy bear.

what light...

The hindsight of desire gives me perspective that I am in some tentative amount of control about who I'm becoming. When stating a simple fact of boredom, I somehow managed to turn my life into a spiral of experiences I never saw coming. But the glory of simply living your life without expectations means anything that comes your way has the opportunity to be pleasurable, so long as you shun the jaded, cynical aspect of reality.

I've come to realize not everyone consistently needs something. There aren't always hidden motives. Two people can simply be in each others' company; find solace and serenity in the aspirations of another. Possibly the one thing I've been missing in friendships is the companion. Everyone tends to look out for themselves. The dog eat dog mentality. Which, in the long run, is to be expected since who else will look out for you?

When I succumbed to, in essence, a person who embodies friendship, I came to terms with an honesty I shied away from. Talking gave new meaning to sharing and being honest with myself. To protect others, I gave tinted answers; not enough to see the true meaning, but just enough to guess what was behind the lies. I never felt like anyone, even M, wanted to know everything about me. The eyes would judge, the mouth would snicker at my inconsistencies, and the responses would fall short of truly accepting me for the ridiculousness of who I am. When everyone is judging your every tick, what's the point of showing the real you? Put on the veneer of power and confidence, people see through the cracks.

Honesty has become my shield. Although it appears counterintuitive, I determine the only way I can be happy with what I'm becoming is to become that person with truth and confidence. As long as I don't lie to myself; when angry, throw something; when sad, cry. When happy, and this is the key emotion ladies and gentleman, be happy. Don't cloud the sunlight with the cumulonimbus nature of doubt and determination to make everything harder. Life can be easy sometimes. Sometimes, when lying beside him, I let myself just have a moment where others' opinions don't matter, where there are no consequences for the next day.

The adage of living every day to its fullest tends to come to mind, but I've never been able to succeed. An afternoon wasted on television, dawdling and twiddling my thumbs could be a pastime, sitting in the cafe listening to ridiculousness that is "captain falcon". Not full to potential, but satisfactory in making me happy. So if my joy is making others unhappy, here's the honest truth; I could care less. Joy comes in small things. Listening to Kanye, hearing the intricacies of the rhythm, enjoying the company.