Squander

In the fall, I had this weird realization: with all the social networking (a phrase I hate, but HAVE TO embrace) everywhere, I know a lot more about strangers than most people I know personally. Which is a little sad I think. I mean, people with whom I share zip codes and cities, I should know them better, shouldn't I? I thought if it was my own aloofness that was making me think this way, but couldn't see that was the reason. Or the only reason. Over the last three weeks or so, as it turns out, I've come to discuss this strange realization with people I know pretty well, and, ignoring the sheer irony of that, I think I came to a pretty sad conclusion: not just anybody rates. In this case 'anybody' means me.

I'm not sure if disconnected is the right word. Probably more like abandoned.

Look, a couple years ago, Golden said to me how she's come to realize that people come and go in and out of your life for particular reasons, and it doesn't mean everyone's going to be close to you, no matter how much you'd like it. I kind of didn't want to accept this. Not until now. Which, in just typing it out right now, makes me feel so naive. But she is right.

I'm feeling a bit off. Probably sad and resentful and I'd really rather not be. But I can't help thinking about when I found out I was sick and thought I could go somewhere I could get that support and that attention I know I was entitled to. And not just that day, but for the remainder. It was the single most important day of my life and I hate feeling I squandered it. Is that wrong and unfair of me, heaping this huge responsibility onto someone who really didn't need it, couldn't handle it, or possibly never wanted it? What is it that I thought would come from it? I'm not sure, but I suppose as I think about it more and more, and little bits of anger grow, had I known how it's all worked out in two-plus years, I wouldn't have bothered.

It's just past three in the morning and I'm thinking about this now.

Have I said? I hate the twenty-first century.