Laughing All The Way

Thursday, December 08, 2005

even the rain is sharp like today as you sh-sh-shock me sane

I can’t write what I am inclined to write, I don’t want to be found out to be the person I am. I don’t want to ruin the life of a very good friend. Even if I were circumspect about the entire incident there would be people who could put the sad pieces together. There are some truths that don’t need to be shared.

That’s the thing. I have always lived this way. Making these massive mistakes where I maximize carnage. Saying things that hurt. I seem to live, sustained by the hemp woven guilt noosed around my neck, to be cruel. The drive to hurt, so subtly covered and hidden by my dazzling smile, propels me forward into another poorly planned and brilliantly executed execution.

I plant my ass on a bar stool and my feet on a cross bar. Even as I wish I could be alone I put on the face that will draw them. An innate skill, displayed with ease, shown in a mirrored finish, deflecting the light. The approach only shows what’s already visible on the outer, and that is what people see in me, a reflection of themselves (as they are or as they wish to be is immaterial, they use me to feel something about themselves).

No I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want you to tell me about the most amazing night in your life. I don’t care about the time you pulled a man from a burning car. I don’t find you either fascinating or interesting even if I repeatedly tell you that I find you either fascinating or interesting (especially if I tell you: “You’re fassssscinating”).

It’s an act. I’m good at it. I’ve won awards for it. Please do not be fooled into thinking that just because you were interesting or fascinating (see above) that I ever want to see you again.

But I think to myself, as I sit there, and hear you stories, nod my head, enlargen my eyes at the appropiate points and feed into your belief that I care: “Please, stop sucking me dry.”

My mother once described the difference between my sister and myself in the following:

“Your sister has always been so smart and gifted, but it was something into which she put time and effort. Whereas she worked very hard to complete certain classes in high school, you just breezed through them. You made everything seem so effortless, because to you, these things were effortless. I can’t imagine what it is like for an older sister to have to look at her younger sister and know these things, but she does. You walk into a room and draw attention. There is just something about your personality that shines. When your sister was spending all that time working on being a good student and creating the persona of the responsible, stable person that she is today, you were focusing on the pieces of you that make you the person you are today, you were working on the shine.

She is the standard building block person who worked hard and has a very nice and stable life. You are equally as smart and gifted, but you didn’t let that define you, you didn’t want that to define you. You are defined by your personality. You are the outstanding to her standard, you are the capstone to her building block, you are the exciting to her stable. And that is why people are attracted to you, they want to be near the shine. You walk into a crowded room of strangers and leave with a room full of people who want to be your bestfriend. While you sister holds on to those new friends, you are more than willing to never see them again.”

But the shine is fake (all that glitters is not gold).

So Sally can wait, she knows it’s too late as we’re walking on by. Her soul slides away, but don’t look back in anger I hear you say.

Don’t look back in anger. Don’t look back in anger. Don’t look back in anger. At least not today.

(I knew I shouldn’t have slept with him, but I did, repeatedly.)