Thanksgiving

I am thankful for you, every day, but it is really hard to deal with this when you treat me without a lick of consideration.

You say you want to be friends and yet you blatantly ignore me. Or you forget about me. Thanks! You already know that I feel like the most forgettable person in the world, so I really appreciate you milking that one. It's already going to be hard to be just friends. You're making it impossible by not trying. And if you think my occasional texts and phone calls are encroaching on your space, you should probably reevaluate your idea of space.

You say you understand how I feel. You do not understand how I feel. You have felt pain, probably greater pain than myself, at least within the relationship realm. You understand pain, and that I am feeling pain. But you only understand how this pain might make you feel, not how I feel now, not how I feel every day. If you did, maybe, just maybe, you would at least act like you give a shit.

And I know better. I know you. I know you care. But it fucking hurts that your actions make me doubt it for even a second.

So thanks. Thanks for this awesome start to Thanksgiving. But it's okay, it's sure to get better later, when I go have dinner with my deadbeat, pedophile uncle, and his family of alcoholics who turn to the drink to deny the hell they live in, and the kids suffering under their care. That's sure to cheer me up.

-----

Note To Readers: He'll probably never understand how I feel, because when I get upset with him, I contain these outbursts partly because I want to spare his feelings and also because I just don't have the guts to put it out there. I always have to be the fucking martyr, even for the people who hurt me. I wish I could tell him. I wish he did understand.