Tuesday, December 16, 2008


For far too long I've not really made a point of making friends. The Cute Ex pointed this out to me one night when he was discussing a time when he planned to hang out with some of his friends.

I should point out that it was the same conversation when he discussed that he didn't like his boyfriends becoming friends with his friends. He felt there should be some sort of understood line between the two parts of his life. I disagree, but that isn't the point.

His words at the time had to do with the fact that I didn't seem to have my own people, that Momma and I shared our people. It's pretty much how we've always rolled; we share our people. I'm not sure how it works out, but we've never necessarily had our own friends. The people we meet and befriend away from each other have always become friends with us both.

In a sense I've tended always to not have a lot of close friends. As a child I always felt that my younger brother was somehow always stealing my friends, and all too often it did feel like people who were my friends for whatever reason always liked him more than me when he was around.

Some of that sort of thing may have bled over into modern life in that I've tended to see people as being my friends because of my association with Momma. I've only recently begun to accept that maybe some of those people also like me in addition to her as opposed to because of her.

All of this comes on the heels of my trying to open up to and be less of an anus to many of the people in my life, often people who I've assumed liked Momma as a friend in spite of her association with me, or people who I would have liked to be friends with but that they were Momma's, and not really my, friends.

It hasn't stopped being weird. This whole opening myself up, actually making attempts to befriend and be nice, is somewhat alien to me. I often feel exposed in some way that I'm not sure how to consider much less explain. And there's some amount of discomfort in all of this.

It's all part of my new plan of self discovery I suppose. It's all part of having created this facade of me that wasn't really me, but over time, as you build the facade, eventually you forget entirely what's behind there. In the case of old western buildings, there was nothing behind the facade more than an attempt to make your shit little town appear bigger than it really was. In my case the facade was an attempt to hide, even from myself, who I really am.

So, self discovery and all that, good for something, not fun always but sometimes. I think we've covered it all for now. There's certainly more, and I could get into the intricacies of what I've self discovered, but at some point a girl has to keep something to herself. There's got to be at least a hint of mystery.

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