Strength

Its all of the small things in life that leave me feeling like shit. I want to believe I’m strong, but it feels like I’ve been carrying this weight for a long time.

I found out that when I missed George’s funeral, I also missed the only chance to see all of my old friends from years way back. No one had the decency to tell me when it was. I was easily forgotten, not a email and not a phone call and I thought back to when I had received either from any of them and all I can trace back were calls asking for favors. It would’ve been very comforting to know that everyone else was still alive, in whatever way we refer to being "alive" as a possibility to validate existance.

George was always good to me, it would’ve been nice if I could’ve paid my respects.

I realize I’m such an easily forgotten figure. Sometimes, I count how many days it takes for someone to ask me "How are you?" And I realize that the days inbetween are to far and spreading. It saddens to me to know that someday, I’ll die and this life of mine and this name of mine will all be gone  and all of what was once beautiful died inside me long ago when I stopped receiving such basic things as a phone call to see how I was doing.

These days, the concept of someone making a phone call to get ahold of me seems to sound like the most difficult thing in the world. Everyday I try to force myself to believe that those who I love and say they love me are just extremely busy and that a phone call just isn’t in there time limits, but as more time passes, I’m starting to think that no one gave a shit to begin with.