I looked at the world through a Vicodin haze today; that's how it so happened that I booked a ticket to Lake Tahoe not next week but the week after, a last-minute invitation from Joanna via her ridiculously wealthy father (they have their own private jet) that I could not pass up on. Two weeks from right around now, I will show up in Sacramento and will be chauffeured in a Porsche to one of the nicer ski resorts in the country for a weekend of shits and giggles with one of my dearest friends.
So, sorry, brother, if these last minute plans mean I can't pick you up in L.A. and you have to publicly decry my existence because you'll be out $50 for the rental car. I truly apologize for putting myself first when I had already made a commitment to you; that sucks, doesn't it? It's not like you've ever put me in the position to cancel plans and make arrangements for your impending visit, only to have you cancel not verbally but by way of standing me up so that you can get trashed with your friends. It's not like you've ever done that to me; no, more truthfully, you do that to me every time you're in town, and you have since I first moved here when I was 17. This is what it feels like to not be able to depend on people. Get fucking used to it, because your karma is finally catching up with you. You think I'm a cunt? Just you wait, you little douchebag, you fucking cocksucker; the tides have changed, and you are merely getting your just due.
Thanks, by the way, for your unconditional support. Oh wait, that's not right; fuck you for only caring about my life insomuch as it affects yours. Maybe if you weren't such a selfish dick, this sort of shit wouldn't happen to you.
I apologized (insincerely). And he called me a cunt. This is why you don't depend on people. Welcome to the real world, big bro. It finds new ways to let you down every time you turn a corner.