It’s crazy how we as human beings always have to be a part of something. We always have to feel wanted. And when we don’t, the feeling of rejection feels like fire consumming up a beautiful green forest in the middle of the night. It feels like a knife slowly erupting from within the heart cutting circulation and cutting life itself. At least for me it does.
That’s pretty much how I have felt all my life. One of my main fears, if not my number one, would be, rejection. It feels awful. One of the worst feelings someone can have. Specially when all you have ever wanted was to be part of something, to be, involved.
Everyday at work the coworkers I associate the most with and I always sit at the same table. We have marked it as our table. Not literally of course but mostly everyone knows that it is where we sit on our breaks and lunches. But some times someone new or just another random employee will sit there. That won’t make my coworkers sit else where though. They will just pull up a chair and sit around them.
It may seem rude but they are polite and say hi and offer their food or snacks. Maybe we should sit somewhere else? Maybe we should get there earlier? But we don’t.
Today though was different. I got ther last and all the seats were taken. It’s a table for four, and I was number seven. I pulled up a chair and Mr. Brown who was sitting at a near by table said, “Dam man! There’s a free table right there.”
I felt really bad. Yes, I could have gone to that table and sat alone. And even though I don’t consider my coworkers friends they are still close associates I talk to. As bad as it sounds they are there to fill the empty void I would feel if I was alone.
When Mr. Brown said that, it made me feel bad. Bad that I wasn’t brave enough to sit alone. Bad that I always had that feeling of rejection in the back of my mind that I had to avoid. Bad that I always had a feeling of being wanted. Bad that I had to sit at that table to feel part of something. Bad because I was just using them to not feel alone.
But, am I the only one?
Why are people so mean? Or is it that I just live in a ghetto city? Where people don’t give a fuck about what they say or what they do? Where they don’t care how they treat people, or let alone, if they hurt them? Where they only think about themselves?
Or maybe I was raised right. I was raised to be respectful. I was raised to be kind and to care about others. To treat others the way you want to be treated. But what if you don’t get that in return? Still, I continue to be nice. Am I too good for this city? Or am I just too humble?
At work there is a wide long cold distance between girls. Some don’t talk to each other because one didn’t say hi to the other for one day. Others because they simply forgot to invited them to a work birthday lunch, then all the sudden they are sworn enemies. All this is so stupid, but why do you girls live like this? It’s almost like they like it. But when they go home do they not feel the pain that the other person must be in? Wondering why they did the things that they did?
Then there are guys who, I don’t know why, but for fun they like to say ‘fuck you’ to each other. THERE IS NO POINT IN THIS. So why do it? Then there is that masculinity bullshit. My dick this my dick that, pussy, pussy, pussy. Who cares? Well, actually, who ever does care is one stupid person with no life goals. There’s more in life than your dick dude.
I just want to meet a genuine kind person. Not someone who at first will seem like a nice lovely rose, but then turn out to have the most vicious and sharpest thorns of them all.
I wish people would be nicer. I wish people would think before they say their hurtful words. I wish people could see how their words can affect people. I wish they could change. But it’s not up to me. That’s the sad part.
You could say that I am furious at my friends. I feel like they don’t understand what I’m going through. They don’t realize the struggle that is my life right now. Yes, I know I don’t roam around spilling my guts out for the world to see but they should notice if they are my friends correct? Correct.
One of my estranged friends keeps sending me funny memes from Buzzfeed and People, yet she hasn’t spoken or texted me in over two months. Is this her way of saying hi? Of trying to find out how I’m doing? By sending me memes about how girls feel better and more powerful when they don’t shave their legs? I want to scream through the phone CALL ME! I NEED HELP! Seriously, I really do want to hear her voice. I want her to tell me that everything will get better, even though it won’t. I want her to make me laugh the only way she knows how. I want to see her face to face. See her smile. Hear her laugh. But how can we do that if the only way she is trying to comunicate is through memes? Then in the other hand she might not know any other way to break the ice. I have no clue. And I don’t know what to do.
I was also talking to another friend, his name is Gabriel. (I talk about him enough, I feel like his name should be mentioned by now.). He went to a funeral today and he said he found emotions that he didn’t have before. I was very curious to see what he meant. He explained that his dad is a drunk (this I knew) and that he didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t know what will happen if it gets worse and he’s very deeply sad.
Ok, let’s back the train the fuck up. First of all. Yes your dad drinks. But he has two homes. One that you live in, have your own room, and have more than enough food in. The second one he rents to people which provides even more money to the home that you’re currently living in. Third, he works a full time job. Sure every weekend he likes to get a little tipsy and have fun, the man does so much! He’s not your typical drunk. The ones you see on TV that don’t have any money and have long hair and a beer belly. He just looks like another dad.
I understand what he’s going through. My dad was a drunk. But my dad was a real drunk. He didn’t give a shit. He wouldn’t come home for days. He would work when he wanted. And sometimes we would have to eat bread and milk for a couple of days until my mom found some way to bring home food. Thank god my dad isn’t around anymore. He was a piece of shit. But him complain about his dad? You little fucker! Let him get drunk that’s his way of unstressing. As long as he provides you a roof and food what esle do you want?
What gets me mad is that he sounds like he is in deep pain. Like he’s morning the loss of something. He’s like in the brink of depressing and I’m just like dude really? I know I should be more understanding, but come on! My mom has cancer, we’re on food stamps, and I can barley keep up with the bills. And your going to tell me that you’re sad?
Update: he just messaged me that he’s planning his graduation party. I’m done. He doesn’t know how fucking privaliged he is. I never had a graduation party. So while I’m over here struggling to provide for my family in my early twenties he’s going to be having the time of his life being showered with gifts.
I know I sound like an asshole, but life is so unfair. I look back at my life and try to see what I did wrong to deserve all this bad karma. But I can’t. All I see is a great little kid with a big heart who never got in trouble and always got straight A’s. But I guess in this life some of us have to suffer so others don’t.
Good morning Journal,
I have noticed that my entries have been rather depressing. And though I can make a million excuses upon how it’s not my fault it’s the way life has been treating me, it wouldn’t make up for the way I see things. I was thinking that, yes, things have been bad lately but why not be greatful for the little things that have happened?
First off, the most important thing I’m grateful for is my mother, she has been there with me through thick and thin and has always been by my side. She has made me the person I am today. And even though we are going through this (even if she doesn’t deserve to go through it) it will make us stronger. Our bond will grow and we will get to know ourselves better.
I’m grateful for the times I’ve spent with my family. Granted it hasn’t been much and the times have been hard. But those moments when we were together and nothing seemed to faze us, I’m grateful for those. For the little moments that we only saw each other. When we were in our own little world and nothing could touch us, we were untouchable. I’m grateful for those moments because those moments give me strength to go on. They make me want to have more of those moments more often.
I’m also grateful for my heart. I know I can be a little brat, but I’m so thankful that I didn’t end up like the rest of this crappy world (mama raised me right). I care. Yes, I care about other people. Do I know them? No. But I care. I care for my friends. I care for my coworkers. I care. And I’m grateful for that. Sometimes it hurts me but who would I be if I was always going about my day like I didn’t give a fuck? I’m grateful I’m not that kind of person.
I’m grateful for everything I have. It may not be much but that’s ok. Not having much has taught me that earning things by your own sweat and tears feels better than to just be handed something. For fighting for what you want and not just take it. I’m grateful for that.
I’m grateful for my values and morals. Without them, would I even be human?
I know I don’t have much, but I’m grateful for the things that I do. And, honestly, I don’t think I need anything else.