Saturday, September 09, 2006

When the Laundry Spills, Mom Will Yell

I hate when life screws over the people that don't deserve it.
And I don't mean me, because that's been happening for the last 8-9 years, and I'm used to it. Sometimes it doesn't even bother me when bad shit happens to me; it doesn't phase me. I just look at it like another shirt in the laundry pile, if you will. Eventually, the pile will get too big for the basket and things will start to spill out. And if you are lucky enough to be able to squish more and more clothes into the basket, the basket will eventually break, spilling everything out onto the floor. And your mother will yell. This awkward (yet ingenious) metaphor is my life.

But like I said, this is not about me. I am done crying for myself this evening. Friend from before is kinda like a cartoon character who walks around with a rain cloud over her, and a gentle rain constantly falls. And although everyone enjoys a good, refreshing drizzle, intense downpours aren't really that great. Unfortunately, that's what she keeps getting. And I have to say, I think it's time for some sun.

Two of her friends have "abandoned" her, in a sense. One will return soon, but not soon enough, and the other probably won't. I know the feeling and I don't like it. Her significant other is a dick, and quite frankly if he were to get the death penalty, I would pay to be there. And now, I read that she didn't even get a chance to get her license. But worse than that, I don't ever want to hear about my friends being in emotional stress. And when I read that she too "can cry in front of a friend" and did, I get upset. I know how embarrassing it can be to lose control of that sort of thing. I'm usually good at not doing it, but sometimes it's just impossible to control it.

This part is where it gets weird and a little less poetic. No metaphors or creative writing. And feel free to skip right on to the non-brightly colored text.
About 9 years ago, I lost all faith in a higher power, ie God. I couldn't understand why He would make my parents hate each other and not want to live with me at the same time. I couldn't understand why it took Him a year before He made the truth hit me. Why would someone who loved us as his children make one of them so sad that she tried to O.D. on pills and then tried to slit her wrists, or gather enough courage to drive into a tree or jump off a bridge? Why would He want his daughter to end her life? But more importantly, why would he create someone like John Allen, who did nothing but fuck everything up even more. I prayed all the time for God to make me happy again. But alas, this didn't happen. And for several years, I was uncertain of whether there was a God or not. And then, when I found comfort in causing physical harm to myself and emotional harm to others, I decided that God did not exist. Everyone talks of his love, and I wasn't getting any...therefore he didn't care about me and I didn't need to believe in him anymore. Now, about a year or so ago, I was in another situation, where I ran out of options and I prayed. I made it through alive (and i'm not just saying that as a figure of speech), no alcohol poisoning or car "accidents." I'm fine. Does this mean there is a God, or was I just lucky? I honestly don't know.

Since I am still in the "Is there a God or isn't there?" conflict, I decided that praying wouldn't hurt. Just in case, you know. So, about half an hour ago, I sat on my little dorm bed and prayed that my friend would be happy. And if He could give her a sign that things would get better, that would be splendid. I did it not so I would feel like I did something, I did it because I love her, and I really want her to be happy. She deserves it more than anyone I know, especially more than me.

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