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Stop Making Sense

It’s fun how I can make people pissed off at me simply by doing things like, for example, existing.

Today I pissed Kelly off, and I don’t understand why. I believe she was mildly drunk, which might account for her baffling behavior. But I don’t know.

Apparently the root of the problem is that I started talking to an old friend, Lucy, from whom I was inseparable at one time or another. That’s changed somewhat…there’s been a rift between us for quite some time for many, many reasons that I shan’t go into because it’s inappropriate, but those of you reading probably know already, so there’s really no purpose anyway. And if you don’t know, you probably shouldn’t so fuck off.

I started talking to Lucy because, as a result of certain events highlighted earlier in this blog, I started feeling really, really depressed, and when I get like that, she’s the only one who has ever been able to make me feel better. And Lucy did make me feel better—I’ve felt great for the past few days, since I started talking to her again. I didn’t even go into the hoary details of my problems—just talking to her made me feel good.

But now, as a result of that, Kelly is pissed off and baffled. She talked to me tonight about it, but I was simply not in the mood to deal with it. I had a long day, I had just finished watching two extremely depressing episodes of Buffy (come on, she sacrificed Angel right when he got his soul back so she could save the world…if that doesn’t get you down, you’re a robot), and I really needed to concentrate on my homework. So Kelly got a whole bunch of shit off her chest during the course of about 30 seconds, while I was paying no attention to Instant Messenger, and I really had no legitimate response.

Kelly wanted me to stop talking to Lucy—she wanted me to talk to her instead. But I just can’t do that. I don’t trust Kelly. I’ve tried to, but I can’t, because invariably she tells everything to every single other living person within her immediate vicinity. And, thanks to the magic of the Internet, her immediate vicinity spans much further than the confines of Champaign-Urbana.

Believe it or not, I trust Lucy, this friend I haven’t talked to in months because—ironically—I lost my ability to trust her. She’s done absolutely nothing to regain my trust, and I have to tread lightly because chances are every word she says to me is a lie or at least some form of distorted truth…but I can handle that, and in the case of Lucy I can even understand it.

What bothers me is when I tell people things in confidence, and they spread them around to the other vultures, feeding on my misery in order to survive. Especially when revealing weaknesses and emotional problems and shit like that is invited by Kelly. It’s one thing to say, as an impossible for-instance, “Kelly, I’m pregnant,” completely out of the blue and not expect her to run out and tell everyone she meets. She shouldn’t. It’s not right. But if she did do it, I could understand that. Somebody just blabbed something to her, so she thinks it’s okay—even if I explicitly said it wasn’t—to blab it herself.

But when Kelly says, “Gee, what’s on your mind? You know you can talk to me about anything,” and then takes what you tell her, after she invites you to open up in the strictest of confidence, and blabs it to the world. They’re two totally different things. They’re both bad, but they’re different degrees of bad. One is bad in a stupid, forgivable way. The other is just malicious and evil.

At any rate, when she said that—“You can tell me anything”—I responded simply, “Okay.” I was less than enthusiastic, and despite the fact that she was reading streaming bits of electrons formed into visual information by these magical boxes we’ve all grown so accustomed to using, she could read my tone like a book. I guess she knows me better than I thought.

Kelly responded to this succinctly: “Okay, forget it.” Then she signed off before I could even attempt to get the last word. So now I’m in hot water…and why? Because I’m talking to somebody of whom she doesn’t approve? Last time I checked, she wasn’t my mother.

This whole thing of me not telling her what she apparently thinks is pertinent personal information has bugged her for a long time, ever since—way back when—I had a surgery performed on my eyes, and I never even told her about it. Meanwhile, I told Lucy all about it and even asked her opinion on whether or not she thought it would be beneficial. It eats Kelly’s ass that I talk about stuff like that with Lucy and not with her. Maybe it should. But until she stops treating my most private thoughts with the same amount of sanctity as used toilet paper, Kelly will know nothing.

It bothers me, and it sure as hell bothers her, but that’s the way it has to be.

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