went to see Goat play at the Maple Leaf. i had a good time, and after the show i stopped by Snake's, because i had heard that my friend Robin's house had been struck by lightning, and all her appliances were fried, and i was going to offer her a spare microwave we have lying around. (it ended up being another Robin, who lives down the street from my friend.) anyway. i go into the bar, find out it was the other Robin, and figure i'll have a drink, relax a bit, talk to my friends, and go home. nope. i got pulled into a fucking therapy session by this guy i know. he was talking at me, all fucking nonsense, of course, for more than an hour.
i feel like someone just bled me dry.
do i have the kind of face that makes people feel the need to walk up to me and confess their deepest secrets, inner turmoil, and any/all emotional drama that might be going on in their heads? do i have "i have the time and energy and am willing to listen to you talk about your problems for extended periods of time" written on my forehead in some kind of magic ink that everyone but me can see?
i'm usually pretty good about being stand-offish, and normally probably would have told the guy to leave me alone. but somehow, tonight, i get pulled into this conversation that just kept getting deeper and deeper and more excrutiatingly personal (on his part, not on mine). and it was all pretty sensitive stuff, so i did not feel like i could have walked away from it without being rude or dismissive.
but fuck, man. i wasn't even behind the bar. i wasn't getting paid. i hate it sometimes that i have any compassion. i wish i didn't. but i just can't walk away from someone who's hurting, even if i don't care a mite for the person. (which, in this case, i didn't.) i'm just a sucker for a sob story. i don't know why. it's not like i don't know better. it's not like i haven't heard it all before. it's not like i don't have my own shit to deal with. fuck.
where the fuck are people like me, when i need someone to talk to? where are they when i'm feeling hurt, or upset, or troubled, or lonely? where are they when i get so overwhelmed with the world that i just want to let it all out, and have someone tell me i'm worth something? when do i get my fucking turn to unload? fuck it. no one wants to fucking hear it, unless i want to pay some shrink $50 an hour to spit some Dr. Phil or Psych 101 bullshit at me.
and i'm tired, but can't sleep. and i feel sucked dry and low down. and everything keeps circling around in my head until i can't even think about it rationally anymore. and i was in such a good mood earlier. and i'm smoking too many cigarettes, and my hands are shaking, and my mouth is dry, and my head feels like it's ready to explode with every fucking little thing that's ever bothered me or kept me up at night or filled me with fear, or doubt, or anger...
so i'm going to quit typing, right now.
i'll talk to y'all tomorrow.
love.
-Hyena.
i feel like someone just bled me dry.
do i have the kind of face that makes people feel the need to walk up to me and confess their deepest secrets, inner turmoil, and any/all emotional drama that might be going on in their heads? do i have "i have the time and energy and am willing to listen to you talk about your problems for extended periods of time" written on my forehead in some kind of magic ink that everyone but me can see?
i'm usually pretty good about being stand-offish, and normally probably would have told the guy to leave me alone. but somehow, tonight, i get pulled into this conversation that just kept getting deeper and deeper and more excrutiatingly personal (on his part, not on mine). and it was all pretty sensitive stuff, so i did not feel like i could have walked away from it without being rude or dismissive.
but fuck, man. i wasn't even behind the bar. i wasn't getting paid. i hate it sometimes that i have any compassion. i wish i didn't. but i just can't walk away from someone who's hurting, even if i don't care a mite for the person. (which, in this case, i didn't.) i'm just a sucker for a sob story. i don't know why. it's not like i don't know better. it's not like i haven't heard it all before. it's not like i don't have my own shit to deal with. fuck.
where the fuck are people like me, when i need someone to talk to? where are they when i'm feeling hurt, or upset, or troubled, or lonely? where are they when i get so overwhelmed with the world that i just want to let it all out, and have someone tell me i'm worth something? when do i get my fucking turn to unload? fuck it. no one wants to fucking hear it, unless i want to pay some shrink $50 an hour to spit some Dr. Phil or Psych 101 bullshit at me.
and i'm tired, but can't sleep. and i feel sucked dry and low down. and everything keeps circling around in my head until i can't even think about it rationally anymore. and i was in such a good mood earlier. and i'm smoking too many cigarettes, and my hands are shaking, and my mouth is dry, and my head feels like it's ready to explode with every fucking little thing that's ever bothered me or kept me up at night or filled me with fear, or doubt, or anger...
so i'm going to quit typing, right now.
i'll talk to y'all tomorrow.
love.
-Hyena.