I learned a lesson in Seattle: people like you better when you let them talk.
I learned a lesson in San Francisco: I like myself better when I'm around people who let me talk (but then I regret everything I say).
Everything's always about you, and me, and ourselves and we're all so self-absorbed but that's the only possible way to justify getting up in the morning.
In high school, I was friends with the sturdiest people I could find: Joanna, Esp, people I could depend on no matter how fucked up I was. Joanna was the one who called my mom to tell her that I was in trouble (mentally). In college, I befriended the shadiest people I could find in a vague attempt to prove that I could support myself emotionally. That didn't work out so well, so I moved to Seattle to live with Joanna. I found Aaron, who needed a rock, and every single relationship in my life since then has been based on me being supportive to the point of matriarchic. I'm the supportive one, I'm the one who makes sense of other people's lives, I'm the one who is understanding and supportive and in control. Then somebody asked me: who does that for you?
"That's! the problem," I realized out loud. Aaron tells me that I should eat, but he won't (and doesn't know that he should) help me get over why I don't want to. Samantha promises me she won't judge me for bitching about Aaron, but I feel like I have to be her pillar of Relationship Goodness, to prove that it can be done, people do change, people can love each other without any ulterior motives. Esp and I have been missing each other's calls since I moved here. And I don't have anyone else. I'll call people, but they'd rather talk about themselves and most of the time, I prefer it that way. Do I need a me to give me some perspective, to tell me when I'm doing inappropriate things but not let it get in the way of our friendship, to let an entire conversation be only about me and my problems and not somehow slide themselves into the conversation? Why can't I just do that for myself?
Here is what I know: I am not over The Past and, just as I promised Aaron, I never will be. But I'm not allowed to dwell; I can only squelch any emotional outburst I may feel and somehow transfer it onto whatever minute issue I can identify at that moment.
It's been two years; do I really want another lifetime of this?