Flying Solo…

Well, it’s official. Looks like I’m going to be making this move solo after all. Yep. After weeks of her avoiding my just yes/no question, I finally managed to get an answer last weekend. I practically had to drag it out of her though. Granted, I pretty much already knew what her answer was going to be, but still. It didn’t make it any easier to actually hear her say it. I played it off cool though—like it didn’t matter and I was okay with it—then bawled like a baby on the drive home. Yeah.

I’m sad about it. Naturally. It hurts. I’m trying to be understanding about it, I really am….but it still hurts. I get it. She’s had a little of a setback recently, financially-speaking so naturally she’s going to need some time to get things back on track. I get that. And there’s the boyfriend situation, too. They’ve gotten pretty serious really fast—which of course makes it a little complicated in that regard. They seem really great together. I finally had the chance to meet up and he really does seem like a nice guy. He’s nothing like any of her other boyfriends. You can actually have a conversation with him without wanting to punch him in the face J. And he’s really sweet with her. He seems to genuinely adore her. He’s always getting her “just because” flowers and random gifts, which is so sweet.

She just seems so happy. And I’m really and truly glad for her, I am. Which is why I feel horrible about being upset about this and with her. I want her to be happy, I do. I just hate that it has to be this way in order for that, you know? I’m not mad at her for it or anything. I’m not really sure what the best word to describe it is…disappointed I guess you could call it. I just feel a little let down, that’s all—by her not going now and plans being changed…by a lot of things, really. I just really wanted this to happen, for us to go down like we planned. And now that that’s not going to happen…I just feel really uncertain. And scared. I feel like I’m not sure what I should do now. I mean, I don’t want to go…but at the same time, I do. I have to go. Hell, I NEED to go. I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t BE here. I’m at the breaking point with my family. I just can’t take it anymore…all the fighting with one another and getting bitched at. It’s like walking on eggshells with them–like nothing I do is ever right or enough for them or is ever going to be, you know? I just can’t keep doing this with them…having just really good days or just really bad ones—and nothing in the middle. No common ground. No compromise. My grams is in total “bitch” mode for some reason, which is really getting on my nerves. It sounds horrible and she may be a 72-year-old little old lady, but there are still moments when I’d love nothing more than to punch her in the face. Seriously. She can really make me mad sometimes. Recently, it’s had a lot to do with me getting a restraining order against one of my aunts, her oldest daughter. Which was totally justified, I might add. It caused some problems and they didn’t talk for a couple of months…but they’ve since patched things up. Which is wonder-effin-ful for THEM. Seeing how they’ve made up, my grandmother of course seems to think I should to and that I should just get over it all. Get over it all? Give me an effin break. The bitch shoved me and punched me in the face…AND had the nerve to go and flat-out lie in court by saying she never touched me. Not only that–she also tried making me look bad by saying I was mean to her 9-year-old grand-daughter—her granddaughter that picked up , tried throwing a wooden stool at me, then said she was going to “go to the kitchen, get a knife, and then slit my throat and watch me bleed to death”—that granddaughter. While it’s no secret that I can’t stand the little bitch—and I really can’t—I never did a damn thing to her. Well, besides bursting her little bubble in that her thieving mother was in jail and not “on a little vacation” like my aunt told her and telling the little witch not to speak or look at me, that is. The girl may only be nine years old, but if you ask me, she’s a little sociopath. All that considered—there’s no way in hell I’m going to let it go or work things out with my aunt. My grandmother can buy into her little act of contrition…but I’m sure as hell not going to. I know my aunt. She does this all the time. She causes problems for everyone and stabs them in the back whenever she gets the urge…then lets it all blow over a couple weeks or months and then she’s back—no apologies, no ounce of remorse…nothing. In fact, this has been going on for almost thirty years now with her. It’s always the same damn thing. She thinks who she is and acts like the world and everyone in it owes her something…and it doesn’t and they don’t. Her problem is jealousy. She’s always been jealous of the fact that my grandmother has treated my siblings and me better than her kids. It’s true, but then her kids were total uppity brats, so what else did she expect? She’s also jealous of our success—seeing how her kids dropped out of school, never went to college, and are in and out of jail constantly for stealing stuff. Which they get from her, I might add. She too likes taking things that don’t belong to her. They learned from the best I guess. And now, she’s jealous of the kids (my nieces and nephew)—again for my grandmother treating them better than my aunt’s grandkids. It’s pretty pathetic really…a grown woman being jealous of little kids. She’s ridiculous.
Anyways, that’s not even all of it. There’s more. There’s the situation with her daughter too—my cousin (who also happens to be a bitch). She stabbed me in the back herself 3 years ago…screwed me over for no reason whatsoever except for that she was jealous that I was happy and that things were going well for me when her life, at the time, was a miserable mess. It’s not so much about what she did as it is about her just doing it in general. She betrayed me for no reason when I’d never done a damn thing to her. In fact, I was pretty much the only friend she had since she’d moved back from California and had broken up with her baby’s daddy. I took her out with my friends and me. I listened to her vent and cry about her screwed up love life. Hell, she even made me her youngest daughter’s godmother. We were close. We were friends. Or at least I thought we were…until she so underhandedly threw me under a bus, so to speak. We haven’t talked since and we never will. Especially not after her latest little stunt a couple of months ago when she got in my face at a store and threatened me. Like her mother, the bitch didn’t think I’d do anything about it. But I did. I went right from the store to the police station and fled a report for harassment against her. I never heard anything more about it until a few days ago when my mother was at court with my brother and she too, having been arrested again for stealing, was there for her court appearance as well. Apparently she was just looking at a fine until the charge mentioned that he also had a report of harassment against her. When he told her it was my report—she flipped. According to my mother she turned right around and said in front of the judge, lawyer, and everyone that she was going to kill me, that I was dead. Yeah, bright move there. Now I guess she’s facing up to 18 months or 2 years. Maybe I’m a bitch for saying it, but I think its effin awesome. What can I say—karma’s a bitch. Gotta loooove it. I do.

So yeah, there’s all that drama and some other things too that I’m just plain sick and tired of. I have to get out of here before they drive me crazy…which is soon, I’m sure. It’s not just that and them though. It’s other stuff. It’s everything. I feel like this place is suffocating me, like I can’t breathe. I feel like it’s destroying me, slow but surely. If I don’t go now, it’s going to eat me alive inside. I don’t want that. I want to have a life. I want to live. That’s why I HAVE to leave. But I’m scared. I don’t want to do it alone. That wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to go with me. We were supposed to do this together.
It’s not just about not wanting to be in a city alone. It’s so much more than that. It’s about wanting my best friend back. That’s what it was about for me. Everything is different now, so much has changed. Our friendship is nothing like it used to be. It’s a mess. I don’t think either of us wants to admit it, but it’s not the same. So much is missing. So much is screwed up. And it has been since we made up after that year of not talking. It changed everything, it really did. I mean, on the surface it seems okay, but it’s not. Not really. Maybe I’m being ridiculous and blowing things all out of proportion, I don’t know. If this were three years ago, I would have said that was crazy…that there was no way that would ever happen. That probably would have been true…THEN. But things have changed. Things aren’t like they used to be. We aren’t the same people that we were then. We’re different. Our friendship is different. Everything’s different. If this were three years ago, the distance wouldn’t have mattered. Our friendship would have been strong enough to withstand something like this. But this isn’t 3 years ago. This is now. And truth be told, our friendship is on shaky ground–and has been for a while now. And the worst part is knowing that it’s my fault for that. I did it. I pushed her away. I shut her out of my life for a year. And in doing so, I learned how to cope on my own; how to be okay…how to not need anyone. It sounds horrible, but it’s true. Which is why I know my fear isn’t as ridiculous as you might think. I know that it can happen, because it has.

Granted, people change and grow apart and whatnot…but we’re not most people, she and I. We’ve literally been through hell and back with each other. We’ve been through so much over the years that–to be perfectly honest–it really is a miracle that we’re still friends. I can’t tell you how many people have said that over the years, but there’s a lot. Oddly enough, I know exactly where they’re coming from because honestly, I’ve asked myself that same question countless times over the years. I know it makes no sense. I mean, for all intended urposes, we shouldn’t be friends. We’re too different, too irrational, too…a lot of things. The way that we argue you would think we were sisters or something. It’s crazy. SHE’S crazy. She gets drunk and mad and throws hammers around. She even threw a bottle at some guy’s head one night, which in turn nearly got us shot. (Lesson to be learned from that–don’t throw beer bottles at a gang member who has a gun in his back pocket…umm, yeah.) But despite all those things and all her other crazy antics, I love the girl to death. I really do. I mean, she’s crazy and irrational and too damn stubborn for her own good sometimes, but she’s also my best friend. She knows me better than anyone else, my family included. She knows all my secrets–well, most of them anyhow. She knows when something’s wrong even when I say it’s fine. She knows when to push and when to back off. Honestly, she’s like my other half–in a non-lesbian whatever kind of way. Sure, we fight and we disagree and we throw things, but I know that no matter what, she’ll always be there–even when the rest of the world walks out. Granted, to the rest of the world, our friendship might seem like a disaster waiting to happen (and sometimes it kind of is) but then, the rest of the world doesn’t know what we’ve been through. The world may not understand it–hell, I don’t even understand it–but somehow, it works for us. Or at least it used to.

We’re supposed to be best friends forever. Nothing was supposed to change that. Hell, I never thought anything could even. And now…now I’m not so sure. Of that. Or a lot of things, really. I don’t know. It just…it all just seems so uncertain, you know? I feel like we were just starting to fix things and that we were getting somewhere. I mean, I was even starting to believe that maybe there was a chance we could get back some of what was lost because of that year of silence. I don’t know.

Maybe I was naive and foolish to even think that we could actually fix things. Maybe I wanted it too much…expected too much. I don’t know. I guess I just thought that the move would fix things–that it’d give us time and a chance to work things out. I don’t know what I thought, honestly. I just want it back. I want my best friend back–the old one–the one I knew before everything went to hell. I miss that girl. I miss her. I miss being able to tell her anything. I miss not having to hide away or having to pretend that everything is fine when everything is NOT fine. It’s just so hard. And it hurts so much. I hate what I did. I hate that I hurt her. But I hate HIM most of all. He caused it, albeit indirectly. He backed me into a corner and gave me no choice but to do what I did. He played me for the fool and in doing so had me convinced that no one could be trusted. He tore my world apart, shattering everything I thought to be true. HE did that. To this day, I doubt if he even knows that what he did–it didn’t just hurt me…it wasn’t just my life that he destroyed. What he did impacted the lives of others and not just me.

I hate how this has to be. I hate that she’s putting her life on hold again because of some guy. I hate that this is going to come between our friendship. I hate that I can’t change it. Or stop it. I hate that I have to stand here and do nothing while everything falls apart…again. I hate this sick feeling I have that this is it–this is the last straw–that ultimately, this is going to wreck our friendship. But unfortunately, it is what it is. And there’s nothing we can do… And I hate that. So much.




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