Lonely Hearts Club

Curse this mass of cell and tissue inside me that ever continues to beat . . .  That conglomeration of red mass that we associate with feelings and love and ineveitably, heartbreak and loss.  And loneliness.

I’m not exceptionally feeling it right now or anything.  Perhaps I just want to get it out of my system before depression does consume me for a matter of days.

I’m just tired.  Tired of emotions, tired of the immaturity that comes from those emotions, tired of feeling lonely and knowing that I can’t and won’t let myself see the one person who could take that loneliness away . . .

My dad’s always told me that no one ever really becomes an adult.  Sure, when we reach a certain age, socially we’re considered one and expected to act like one.  Yet the more people I run into and the more experiences with 20’s-30’s people I encounter, the more I realize that there are five year olds who are more mature.

When we’re kids, everything is about what we want, what we like, dislike, want near us, want to get away from, and most kids are very vocal about that.  But as we grow up, we learn that tact has to be instated in what we say, because people’s feeling have to be taken into account.  And as we grow, we become afraid of hurting people’s feelings.

Yet on the flip side, hurting someone’s feelings for the greater good wouldn’t be so bad if automatically, the other person didn;t respond by getting defensive.  No one wants anyone else’s opinion about their life when you get right down to it.  Yet any sensible friend is going to say that they’re concerned, worried about, or angry about a given situation in another’s life.  When someone is happy for another person, of course there’s no problem.  Why would there be?  They can both rejoice in happiness, it’s a win for everyone.  Yet, the moment something comes in of "I don;t really like this . . ." automatically, defense comes in.  The person jumps on the other, (figuratively,) claiming that they have no business saying such things, or they don’t know the situation, or some other nonsense.

And that’s what it is nine times out of ten.  Nonsense.  It’s just that the person who jumped on the defensive doesn’t want to acknowledge that someone else could be right and they could be wrong.

Human beings really are arrogant, selfish creatures by nature.  Never wanting to admit that they’re wrong and always wanting to show others how right they are.  Yet when it concerns someone else’s life, the other person can’t, (or won’t,) listen objectively, and that’s where arguments begin.

Communication between everyone would be so much better if the one being criticized would just listen and honestly consider what the other person is saying.  I’ve reached that point in my life, I feel.  I will accept criticism, maybe not happily, but I can take it.  I’ve realized that while yes, I do dwell on the bad, I also wish afterwards that I had said things to the other person.

Hence, where my newfound discovery of washing away the sugarcoat came in.  I figured you know what?  If things are said that I’m going to dwell on anyway, I might as well learn to (maturely) say my opinion and give the other person something to think about, (if they’re intelligent enough to bother.)  Because if the people that I have anything to say to truly are my friends, then they’ll accept my words, say that they’ll consider them, or say thanks but no thanks, I’ve got this under control, and we can go on with our lives.  Because I don’t expect to see eye-to-eye on everything with everyone I know.

Oh . . . Also, just because I don’t wanna write a new entry to put this in, Dolly, I’m sorry.  My mom gave me a letter you wrote to my parents when Bobby was about five months old.  I remember her telling me about it, and saying something about you writing that Mike and I deserved each other, but I never read it until a night or two ago.  Back then, I’d thought you were giving an underlying insult with the "Mike and I deserve each other" line.  But when I actually read it . . . It surprised me that there was absolutely no animosity in your letter’s voice.

Despite the damage he did cause, Jason did one very good thing for me.  He convinced me to call you.