Maye not that bad, but this awful sadness overtakes me when I realize how alone I am in this world. I'm not feeling sorry for myself I protest to an unnamed accuser. Why? Because I've been trained to believe that people should treat each other kindly, if at all possibly.
I know that there are a lot of reasons why people don't, and a lot of life is made up of making excuses for people. Like, for instance, why hasn't so and so called back, or responded to the e-mail, or whatever, and for years there is an excuse, or lots of them You smile politely after a while, not expecting much. Then you breeze through, with nary a thought for them, or so you hope they think. Eventually the loss settles in your throat down to your toes, and all is gone.
In high high school, this meant I began to smoke pot, swear and hang out in the park. Eventually, my hangout was the cemetary. Me, my beer, and a notebook. But that was a long time ago.
I've learned to cope much better now. I wouldn't say with the help of friends, or, I would, cause I've always loved that Beatle song, and, maybe they were deep friends for the moments, summers or falls that it took, but I've grown since high school. With a little help from my friends.
I'm sitting with one now. In a cafe, waiting for the live music to begin. While my family of birth calmly and quietly assures me once again that I'll never be part of them. Oh well. No use breezing in to say hello anymore, you know?....
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