Blegh, y’all. It’s been a hard lunch hour. I feel like a shitty friend. It’s not important why except to note that I don’t normally feel like the most fucked up person on the block and then something will happen, like someone will be all “Why don’t we have peanut butter and jelly for lunch?” and I’m all “My grandma did too love me” and… I don’t know… it’s just hard.
I know we all drag our shit around behind us;–speaking of Scrooge–we wear the chains we forged in life. But I find those moments really hard. I explain myself. The person clearly wants to move on. I feel compelled to explain myself again. They clearly, more than ever, want to move on. And I want… I don’t know what I want. I guess to feel like the choices I’ve made are the best choices I could have made, given the circumstances.
And I get really difficult to deal with when I feel that that’s threatened–my belief that I’m making the best choices I can.
And I feel bad about inflicting that on people.
I don’t know.
It’s fine. It’s just some shit I’ve got to work through.
Edited to add: See?! Even now. I’m still upset about it and am trying to justify to myself why I’m upset about it. It’s like never-ending circular stupidity.