bourboncynic

[bourboncynic]

The High Road Taken... (The Children Never Grow Up)

S-

I didn’t reckon our friendship would end like it has.

But seeing as you removed me as a Facebook friend, advised M- we were no longer friends, but didn’t give me any disclosure or notice about it… I guess I need to stand by your decision and respect it.

I know our last exchange in June was harsh, but I had to say my peace and inform you of how your actions affected me and made me feel.

However, it was certainly not my intention to push you away completely or cut ties.

I did extend a couple of olive branches. I wished you a happy birthday on Facebook messenger. I also messaged you on Facebook messenger, and TXT, about N- in hopes of giving my condolences. Those messages were never read or seen. I had a suspicion I was either archived or you had no interest in hearing from me since our last exchange may have seemed bleak.

I knew my and H-’s friendship ending would probably have some weight on our friendship later on, which could have been a factor in your decision. I’m not in the business of making people choose sides. However, I know you have more of a history and long-lasting friendship with her over me, and on occasion; we need to stand by our tenured friends no matter the circumstances.

This is not me lambasting you.

This is not me advising you to choose sides.

This is not me calling you every name in the book and making it about me.

I figured our paths would cross again and maybe we could reconnect or repair the friendship with some time apart while I healed and progressed in my journey of rediscovery and restoration.

But, I will leave you with a few sentiments before I honor your wishes.

I’m just writing to say THANK YOU.

Thank you for your years of kindness, patience, understanding, advice, comradery, and being in my corner for (7) years and some change.

You have been a vital part of my life and have helped me immensely in many endeavors of mine. I will forever appreciate you and all you did for me. I will not say anything negative about you. When people ask, I will give you credit where credit is due and say “she really helped me and I couldn’t have done a lot of the things I did without her help.”

Maybe I hurt you recently. I’m sorry if I did. Maybe our last exchange hit a nerve I didn’t know it could. Maybe I wasn’t the definition of a good friend to you. I’d like to suspect I was, but you did what you had to do, and I have to respect it.

I wish you the best. I wish for your success as an adult, working professional, and theatre participator. And I wish you the best health. You are a good person. I hope you believe that as well. Though we are no longer going to be in contact, I will forever cheer you on and wish the utmost happiness and greatness for you.

I am disappointed and hurt myself. But as it’s been implied… This is our goodbye. I know you’re a good friend, and are going to be a good friend to a lot of others now, and even after me. They will see how generous, friendly, and supportive you are and just be in awe of it.

I will truly miss all the great times and shenanigans we had. Hopefully you find somebody like that, and I hope I will find somebody who can be in my corner as much as you did for me.

Take care.

In reality... she didn't deserve such a polite email. She deserved to be a called an immature, conniving, selfish fucking child with brat like tendencies and a complete disregard for formality, respect, and dignity.

In other words... fuck 'em. And fuck everybody like 'em.

[bourboncynic]

"I'm A Good-Time Boy... Here To Heal The World..."

So, if you’re following me 'cause you see my cryptic emo-song lyric posts, rants, unpopular and comically 'controversial' opinions, cynical life lessons, and bitter ideologies... clearly hinting about having depression, being held hostage in harmful and pernicious friendships, searching for an outlet where I can be myself again and talk openly of my feelings, ignoring my own boundaries in order to be the dependable people-pleaser, selfishly sacrificing my own mental health for the greater good of other people's validation, neglecting the rooting and caring of me, myself, and I; and you wanted to support a fellow traveler; I have some terrible news...

I feel pretty damn great.

[bourboncynic]

I Don't Care What You Say, I Came To Defy

P-,

I certainly did not wish for our friendship to be over at a moment’s notice.

However, you have given me no choice.

(13) years of friendship, over, because of one comment about my (potential) happiness.

Things were looking up for me. All I desired was to share new, happy news with my friend.

"I met someone and began seeing them." Never believed in a million years a simple declaration like so would destroy a friendship legacy.

Damn.

A real friend would’ve been proud of/for me. A real friend would’ve asked questions.

I was hoping you, as my friend, would be happy for me.

Keep in mind, nowhere did I say you could not stay with me. Or, I couldn’t see you when you’re here. I felt it'd be respectful to YOU and who I’ve begun seeing to inform you of a change in my life.

Instead of happiness, you gave me anger, disappointment, rage, and pouting.

To be clear… I informed you when it developed. I didn’t keep it from you. I didn’t hide it from you as you liked to claim in one of your voice messages. It doesn’t make any difference if I informed you then or when your week was over.

Also, you were never a place holder. You. Were. My. Friend.

You keep calling me or yourself in your voice messages and email a “best friend.”

A best friend would NEVER do this. And as cold as it is to say, a potential romantic partner and potential mother of my kids would NEVER do this either.

As a “best friend,” the news should have never “gutted you.”

Yes. It was news you didn’t desire to hear because of your feelings for me. But again, as friends, which I believed you and I were, it could have been at least fake cheerfulness for the benefit of me.

And I can’t for the life of me understand or fathom why a phone call is needed? So I can be chastised, bitched at, and scolded verbally and vocally? Forgive me, but I’ll pass.

Maybe you’re right. A phone call would have been more decent. But again, why would I waste any of my energy and spirits being screamed at or hearing you sob because of news I share which involves MY happiness. I’m sorry you’re so hurt. But, I figured I could share the news with a friend. I was wrong, apparently.

I do not need any more negativity in my life, and I most certainly do not wish to engage in childlike, high school behavior. Yes, I put up with holding onto many horrible people in my past. However, because of your help, I was able to quickly decipher which ones are worth walking away from, and not allow one shred of pessimism or drama into my life.

Unfortunately, you caught me during a period of healing, boundaries, and expectations.

I also figured, friends TXT. And as far as I knew, we were friends. And we messaged each other via Instagram. You and I are NOT dating. You and I are NOT exclusive. I didn’t owe you a phone call, nor a TXT messages via Instagram. I didn’t even owe you an explanation or news PERIOD. This is 2024. You said breaking up with D- via a TXT message was fine. But, how dare I not call and break news of possible happiness to you? Oh please.

Lesson learned, I guess.

If I hurt you “profoundly,” you hurt me intensely. Even more.

You also made it very clear, five lines later… “this is our goodbye.”

Wow.

No more words needed to be shared. But since you love drama, you couldn’t let it end. Therefore, I realized our friendship was built solely on the grounds I was single and would not date. I had a suspicion for a while. I picked up cues. You can dick around with, and speak about, J- all you wish. You can go on about your exes. You can have me write your dating profile. When I mention anything about liking someone or being attracted to anybody or being ready to date again, goof or not; it’s met with cold silence or some snarky reply which had me crawling on my hands and feet asking “what did I do or say wrong?”

Did you ever even ask about how dating was going for me? Or, who I was seeing? No. Did you ever ask about my plan at (40) years old about obtaining a surrogate and beginning a journey of being a single dad? No. Every damn day was about your journey with fertility treatment only to be blasted for not responding to sensitive, personal, deep information shared. But, you never asked about MY journey. Why would you? Your issues mattered more.

Noted.

And I’m sorry, but mentioning it every single day makes it less sensitive and deep as you claim it to be. Maybe I accepted and cheered that you were finally comfortable with your journey, and I didn’t need to respond to it? Hell, you brought it up enough to make it seem like it was a done deal and no looking back now.

You also said “I look forward to the day you mean nothing to me.”

Forgive me, but why would I respond? You made it clear again it was done.

Over simple fucking news I was seeing someone.

How dare I message you when your anxiety is bad and you’re working and you’re busy with planning a festival? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that me being at work also, being stressed and stretched thin as well, and working on shows doesn’t mean a damn thing. I shared news in real-time, when I was at work and busy just like you. Your schedule and priorities are far more crucial and important than mine.

Noted.

But let’s be honest… our friendship has shifted as of late.

I wasn’t a friend anymore. I was a pretend placeholder boyfriend or spouse. You can call me a placeholder all you like, but in reality; I was the placeholder.

I will be forever grateful for your help with the H- situation. However, I was blinded by the fact I switched from HER placeholder to YOUR placeholder. In the blink of an eye.

Foolish me.

My responses were never good enough for you. I spent more energy, effort, spirits, and time responding to you; feeding your ego, being a shoulder to cry on, complimenting you at every step so you can feel good about your day and self, and being a punching bag.

Then you chastise me for the girls I’ve dated? You insulted me. You belittled me. You insinuated some really bad, harsh, and untruthful claims about my dating preferences. No, no, no. How dare YOU. Keep in mind, you and I dated years ago. So, don’t you dare criticize me and my choices of who I like, date, not like, and not date.

Then you wasted my one night off pouting and crying about events in your life I wasn’t around for, or events before I had even known you? For what purpose?

I warned you about how spacey, scatter-brained, and emotionally drained I was on my way to a rehearsal. Your response? Comment on your picture of your show’s outfit. And how dare I respond with “cool.” Never mind me saying I was not in the right headspace. You needed a compliment and an ego boost. You got it. But, it wasn’t good enough. You’re right. How dare I?

Then gave me four long paragraphs, during work hours, of shit going on in your day and life. I replied to one of said long paragraphs. And not even seconds later, you’re screaming at me for not responding to your sensitive or deep shares. First of all, I responded to the first one. You did not give me ample opportunity to respond to the others, during work hours. Plus, my response to the first one wasn’t good enough, again.

Looks like our friendship was built on falsehood. Selfish gains on your part. Again, I was only good enough as a friend if I was single and not dating. And let’s be honest, you violated, pushed, and crossed boundaries of mine I never had the guts to say aloud. But, now I can.

But again, maybe I am responsible for some of it myself. We should have never shared beds. We should have never planned trips between just us two. We should have never been friends with benefits. I shouldn't have been so flirty back. I shouldn't have given in to your flirtation in return.

For possibly leading you on, I apologize profusely.

But, I had made it very clear of my intention to be friends and only friends with you. But more was going on. There was a territorial and manipulative hold on me. Why couldn’t I see it until recently?

I believed Coachella, San Diego, and trips to Portland (and here) were for friendship purposes.

My suspicion was right all along.

Your intention was for me to just wake up one day, declare my love with you, and be with you romantically? Despite me making it very clear I was not interested in you romantically. Any mention of me in a dating capacity made you pout, short, and bitter. But you had no problem sharing shit about J- or guys you’re meeting for coffee. Oh, it was just to get a reaction from me. Noted.

I’m sorry I don’t have the same feelings for you and it hurts you. But I will not be ashamed of my feelings.

So, I will NOT hear one more tirade from you about how I used you. You used me. When all I asked for was a friend. Friends help each other while they heal. I was foolish to believe you were interested in my healing. And my journey to not be a shell of a man.

To wrap it up…

Thank you for your kindness and the memories. You have helped me.

I was at a loss for words. How could a dear friend behave so horribly to me for news I shared about my happiness? I didn’t know how to respond.

However, your Instagram stories (I counted (2) of ‘em) about me anonymously made it clear we were heading into jaded high school revenge tactic territory. No words needed. This is negativity and drama I will not allow in my life. This goes into blocking necessities; no questions asked and no explanation needed.

You made it clear, by your voice messages and petty Instagram stories, you’ll never let it end, and you’d continue to play a pitiful and pathetic high school drama sport with it.

You obviously anticipated getting a rise out of me, so I would respond; just so you can have the last word, shit all over me, and play the victim.

You obviously kept tabs on me, because it was about (20-30) seconds when you realized you had been blocked and attempted to call me.

You asked for it, and you got it.

Then an email, saying you were owed the decency of a callback or conversation?

After ALL THIS?

No.

This is where you do not deserve, or are owed, ANYTHING more from me.

This is what hurts the most.

You have been a vital part of my life and have helped me immensely in the last couple of months. However, you had only been interested in making me something I didn’t wish to be. I was under the belief we were friends, but you had other intentions. I was foolish to believe you actually liked me as a person and supported my growth, healing, and journey. Nope. Only as long as it benefited you. In some way or another.

I will forever appreciate you. I will cherish the fun we had.

I’m sorry you’re hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t love you like you loved me.

However, you have some big scars you need to mend. And you need to work on yourself. And ultimately, find your happiness and inner peace. And I hope, dearly, you find and receive the help you need so you can be in a better place mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I wish you the best. I wish for your success as a performer and as an adult. I wish you the best in your fertility journey in the next couple of months. And I wish you the best health. You are a good person, but you also need to heal, rebuild, and repair yourself. I know I’m not fully healed, rebuilt, and repaired. But, because of your help, I am a hell of a lot farther in my goals than I was before. I will forever cheer for you and wish the utmost happiness and greatness for you. I believed I could be there for you as a friend, but it was never good enough for you. And only fueled your intentions to keep me to yourself.

I am disappointed and hurt myself. But, as you said… this is our goodbye.

Better now than (13) more years of a false friendship and you feeling even more devastated than you feel now.

[bourboncynic]

The Broken & The New

2023 broke me.

Broke me so much I would have much preferred 2012 all over again. "The dark years" as I categorize 'em.

Broke me in ways I never reckoned I feel, experience, live, or endure in my pre-40 life.

I was so sure 2023 was going to be “my year.”

Granted, I’ve had a lot of successes in 2023 which I will be grateful for. And I know who some of my good friends are. But we’re human. The stress and ordeals and road bumps are often of upmost priority when looking back on a year.

I can deal with stress. I can deal with ordeals. I can deal with road bumps.

I couldn’t deal with 2023’s version of such vernacular.

I’ve had my heart broken. I’ve experienced a loss of a family member. I’ve experienced how my patience and good heartedness was stepped all over and used against me.

Summer was when I nearly broke completely. As an advocate of mental health and body positivity, I neglected myself for so long. After years of swearing it off… I finally enrolled in Therapy.

Some friends are now long gone.

Friends who made me feel special, popular; my absolute best.

Only to discover it was all a ruse. A manipulation ploy; designed to control me, mislead me, and ultimately; control me… depriving me of any strength, integrity, or solace for the sake of his or her own happiness.

I finally experienced how it feels to be used, deluded, manipulated, screwed over, unheard, insignificant, down, lost, depleted, and disrespected.

I was a servant. A jester. But never an equal.

My problems and concerns and worries and successes meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I lived most of 2023 in fear.

I lived in denial of who I was, who I wanted to be, and who I was raised to be. In addition, I had built a wall between me and everybody around me because I couldn’t let any of ‘em see the clusterfuck mess I was. So nobody could see I was drowning. How do you open up to someone about the demons you’re battling with when the people you believed were your ‘ride of die’ friends were the personification of TOXICITY?

I’ve learned a lot in just a couple of months.

This year is where I felt SOMETHING which never resonated with me until now… boundaries.

Knowing boundaries like when to say no and NOT feel any guilt. Stand up when SOMETHING makes you at all uncomfortable. Don’t give in much of your availability for ANYONE just so you can feel like you’re being nice. Don't let someone push you around for selfish gains. Don't be someone's emotional punching bag. Don't be afraid of being and prioritizing being somebody's number one. And don’t feel like you have to be everywhere.

Sounds selfish, I know. But knowing you have agency is easier said than done.

As a people pleaser for the majority of my life… I learned from 2023 where I should put my energy in and how to protect my energy. I know how stability is meant to feel like. Therapy just didn’t open my eyes, but grasping to “radical acceptance.”

2021 shattered me.

2022 changed me.

2023 broke me but opened my eyes.

2024 will be a year of evolving and flourishing.

I’ve always been a fighter. I will continue fighting. I will continue to be open and vulnerable to people who matter most, and who will delight in seeing me breaking down barriers and showing a different side of myself.

For any of you fighting… keep fighting. If you need a helping hand, I will gladly fight with you. If you fought hard in 2023; give yourself a pat on the back and celebrate. You deserve it.

I am celebrating by having another tattoo done in late January.

This is not an attempt for sympathy likes or shout-outs. This is just me being me, because I haven't been me in a while.

And it feels good to be close to 'me' again.

[bourboncynic]

Portrait Of A Man Matured

I've never admitted it before.

I loved Gillian. The first best friend I ever fell for, head over heels. She just didn't see eye-to-eye with my sentiments. I ended being used as a result. Lesson learned. Ha. Read down below.

Mormon. Blonde. Hypocritical. I should've known better. A high-school crush. I really should've learn my lesson here.

I loved Caitlin. Maybe she was why I fell for the 'forbidden fruit' many years later. She was always spoken for. All I could do was admire and dream from afar. I should have just been honest with her... about my feelings. Can't say we'd still be together, but at least I could have had a moment of adolescent happiness. However, I learned actions speak louder than words. Telling someone you love 'em when you're already in a relationship has as much power as a broken promise or a punch to the jaw.

I loved Katie. Young. Naïve. I didn't how to act. How to chase. How to woo. I let her walk away. She was more mature than I ever was when she met me.

My Irish rose. Red-head. Perfection. WTF was I thinking to let her go?

I loved Lydia. Maybe it was me who ruined it. Maybe I was just a nice distraction for her. Who knows? Perhaps she needed to hear me say I wanted her... I loved her. Maybe she held on for as long as she could. She never did hear it from my lips. My loss.

The more I reflect on it... maybe it was both of us. I suspect she had someone else on the side. Lying to get out of a relationship by saying you're going to college out-of-state... but never going is quite the hill to climb and die on.

Maybe I loved Jacqui. Maybe she loved me. The verdict is still out on her.

The more I reflect on it... she didn't. She was fucking men her dad's age while saying how much she liked me. Now she's married to one. And I hear she helped wreck that home.

I loved Rachel. And I blew it. Why? Vanity. Ego. The ideal woman for me. She cared. I got scared. Sad part is... I do not remember if I ever apologized to her. It could have been a dream. And it'll forever haunt me.

Another Irish rose. Literally, from Ireland. Red-head. Punk rock. I was a fucking fool. Lesson learned with Katie... do not let THIS one go. My folly... repeat similar behavior. YOU FUCKING FOOL!

I loved Hillary. But I was just her side piece. Her fuckboi. Her cake so she could eat it too. I didn't matter.

Casey.

Bethanne.

Erika.

Becca.

Noelle.

Theresa.

What do they all have in common? They would've been real good to, and for, me. And I fucked every single one of those up.

Though I am capable of giving love, and being loved; THIS is karma at its finest. And I can admit I deserve it.

Maybe one day I'll learn my lesson once and for all.

And maybe she'll be the luckiest gal in the world because of it. And never know the roads I took and signs I ignored before.

[bourboncynic]

I’d Be Glad To Know Me, Too

It's been said I'm 'mysterious,' 'hard to read,' 'hard to figure out,' 'emotionally guarded,' and 'closed off.'

"You don't smile, V-." 

Maybe you've given me nothing to smile about. Or laugh about.

"You don't communicate enough, V-." 

Perhaps you haven't given me anything to respond to. Stroking your ego, confidence, or well-being doesn't count as effective communication. If that's the case, my communication is damn near Shakespeare compared to yours.

"You never open up or allow yourself to be vulnerable, V-." 

Yes, I have. It's just never enough for you.

Maybe it's often steam-rolled by others because their lives, tests, and trials are 'more dire.'

Or maybe, just maybe, you've never given me the opportunity or space to open up. Maybe you expect and demand so much of me and haven't been compliant on your end.

Did you ever consider maybe you're searching for a prognosis at face or surface value instead of really getting to know me?

You can't just skip 3-4 steps and expect desired results.

I've spent a majority of years, and time, proving to everyone I was approachable and loveable (or at least deserving of it).

This shit is over.

I'm me. I'm glad to be me.

Maybe one day you'll be glad to know me, too.

* This is NOT a cry for sympathy, likes, and pity. This is me being me, who hasn't been given ample opportunity to speak his mind. Some would say... this is me being open. *

[bourboncynic]

Hell Of A Way To End A Friendship...

H-

In light of recent events and activity – you’re right. Our dynamic has shifted and it’s not been a good one for either of us.

You’re not happy. I’m not happy.

I have made several attempts to bury the hatchet, make small conversation, and (in hopes of) discussing the latest shift and how to possibly fix it, but to no avail. There has been a significant shift in recent weeks, even prior to you being super sick and needing to distance yourself for a bit. I at least checked in on you periodically as well as attempted to make your day better by being my goofy self.

So, I am going to be honest, for the first ever between us with hopes I can be heard and understood (for once).

I am not a fan of how I’ve been regarded lately.

Or, in general.

I am hurt. I feel disrespected. And ultimately, I feel used and deluded.

You’ll disagree. Which is fine. Your feelings are valid.

However, my mental health is of vital importance to me right now and it has not been seeing any signs of relief and/or improvement with you in my life. Especially when our dynamic has deteriorated by the minute, by the day, by the week.

I know I am not perfect. I have severe flaws for which I am working on. People do change, but you can’t wait for someone to change when he or she is impacting your mental health. You can’t wait for someone to change when he or she is causing your depression and overall decline. You can’t wait for someone to change when he or she squanders the chances you give and doesn’t appreciate your efforts in return.

Despite all of the horrible actions you bestowed on me, I always chose to see the good in you. I still, and will always see the good in you. You are not a bad person.

I understand people hurt other people. I will forever cherish the laughs, late night chit-chats, advice/guidance, inside jokes, and fun moments we’ve had. Letting go is not easy, but it’s best for me right now.

And to extend an olive branch, it is probably the best for you as well.

Maybe someday, like (10) years down the road, you’ll realize the way you’ve hurt me and we can mend it. For now, I believe it is just best to go our separate ways for a very long while.

I am not writing this as a form of revenge.

I am not writing this to engage in an argument or heated discussion.

I am not writing this to warn you that I plan on souring your name and reputation for the world to see (it’s not really my style and I separate art from the person).

The last act I would do is to hurt you in ways you’ve hurt me. I know I’ve, occasionally, let you down, disappointed you, and probably irked you to the point of anguish.

If you really read this, process and digest it; I hope you are able to reflect on it and grow from your mistakes. I hope you never regard anyone else like you did me in the future. If you don’t read this, I hope you have a happy and successful life and maybe I’ll see you around at auditions, callbacks, and performances.

Our working relationship would be different, sure. But I credit where credit is due. You are gifted and I have enjoyed working with you. But I don’t know if working alongside each other again, minus the close friendship aspect, will be an experience we’ll enjoy.

You were the one person I believed I could go to for anything. If I needed to speak to someone who I knew would listen, no matter the circumstance, it was you. You were first priority over my own mother, or Pita, or Ric (who I’d go to for any matters involving theatre… before you and I began our friendship again over a year ago). Then, the unthinkable happened. In a single moment, it seems; the undeniably strong bond between us was shattered by a growing insurmountable certainty so rotten, yet so pure. You betrayed me.

This is not because I hate you.

This is because I need to heal from the actions I am about to describe.

I remained your friend for so long because you are all I had really. You were the friend I never had. You made me feel special and popular. You made me feel my absolute best. You were the only friend I knew in Phoenix who related to my experiences in my life; past and present. Not to mention, I really enjoyed your company. I found you to be hilarious, and we had a blast. I even fell in love with you all over again. For once, I finally felt like I had the woman of my dreams and she liked me in return. I had the storybook romance. I fell for a dear friend and had her. In my life, it never happened. I ended up settling for who was best at the moment. Not with you. I was on cloud nine.

Over time, the fun times and conversations began to fade away. I was no longer your friend when you, repeatedly, were belittling me, chastising me, arguing with me, finding every excuse to put me down or kick me down, and depriving me of any strength I had left. Yes, I know I spent a whole day hurling insults at you which you claimed “destroyed you.” Well, you finally had a chance to feel like how I’ve been feeling. Only you felt it in a matter of minutes and hours. I’ve been feeling it for weeks, months.

We already had missed a lot of misunderstandings; I was the one who managed to apologize and/or work on myself just to keep you in my life. I wanted to believe our bickering, eggshell walks, and fragile conversations were just temporary, and it would get better.

It didn’t.

Every other time you got my forgiveness, but not this time.

I now know what I should have done.

Even once in our one plus year of friendship, you may have shown me your moral support but never any support to my feelings or well-being. Whenever I was in my deepest days, you would put the blame on me and name-call me and pick a fight with me instead of just having a conversation with me. How many moments could have been settled quickly with a simple conversation. My feelings were invalid. Yours outdid all. I don’t know why, but still I called you my bestie and regarded you like a family member while you never regarded me the same way.

Staying in a destructive friendship for so long is not your fault — it’s mine. With all said, I sincerely wish you all the success in the world.

Though we are no longer going to be in contact, please know I will continue rooting for you! I believe you have a good heart, but you have some really deep issues you need help working through. As do I, which is why I am making my leave presently.

I know you have the strength to do that. I know in your heart you are capable of being a good friend to the new people you will meet in the future.

Unfortunately, that friend cannot be me.

I hope you use this opportunity to grow and reflect so you won’t do this to anyone else in the future.

I will truly miss all the great times and conversations we had.

Take care.

Best,

The friend who stayed as long as he could

[bourboncynic]

This Is Me (Then/Now)

I’ve spent many years hiding it.

I’ve spent a good decade of my adulthood ‘dealing with it.’

I’ve spent many a nights over-worrying, over-analyzing, and over-committing for the good of fellow humans.

I can honestly say…

I’ve never spent adequate opportunities on myself.

I chalked it up. I bottled it in. I buried it deep in my subconscious knowing it will make a comeback but reckoned I can just deal with it later.

Now here I am.

(10) years almost and the feelings have returned.

Self-worth.

How much do I sacrifice myself for the good of others?

How much of a front or façade do I portray to show people I’m not emotionally fragile or slowly slipping in the depths of hardship?

I deal with every stressful situation like it’s common, a norm.

I put walls up because it’s easier to not be hurt or be made a villain.

But it’s never enough.

I’ve become a scapegoat for others as well as myself.

But here I am. Drained. Stretched thin. Overwhelmed. Tunnel-visioned in a box in which any signs of an exit are still left to be found.

I’ve found myself feeling more alone in a crowded room than being on my own.

And I’m exhausted.

I’ve been exhausted for years.

I’m not broken.

Nor am I needing fixing.

I’ve been open, but it’s never enough.

My openness has been used as ammunition for others’ selfish gains.

I’m a crutch for people’s ego.

Their situation, their feelings trump mine.

My voice echoes in a sea of non-compliant attitudes.

Why should I be open if it only gets me so far. So far meaning backwards. A pawn. A science experiment for others to experiment on and based hypotheses off of.

I’m a Libra. A people pleaser. Non-confrontational. Indecisive. Misdirected.

Nobody says easily manipulated, exploited, stepped-on…

I’ve obsessed over ‘fads’ which I felt would better help me.

I’ve grown and styled my hair in every way imaginable. I’ve updated my wardrobe when the season dictated it. I’ve fluctuated in weight. I’ve gained and lost and put on and slimmed again.

I became a definition of discipline which admired some, but never seemed to be a redeeming quality.

Yet, I fall into temptation after temptation.

Sure, skipping the gym to do happy hour is fine. Raging at night instead of cleaning my house will be worth it. Being alone was better than putting myself on the market.

This progress is for me.

There we are, you and me.

Why did you do that? Or… why did I do that?

(You) made it come true.

I asked for it.

I promised you something in return and I haven’t delivered yet.

You won. I lost.

Unless… the path you’ve set for me is full of hurdles where the answer comes before the question.

Yeah, I do that.

Now I know why.

It’s the cure, from what I’ve seen so far.

It all makes sense.

It makes sense to those who understand.

Ten years ago.

So, extroverted, full of life, easy to love and give love, reckless in emotions and seriousness.

It’s all I had. And it worked.

I wasn’t a catch. I wasn’t Mr. Popular.

I surrounded myself with the arts for (20+) years because it was a place to hide. It brought me out of a shell I never knew I had.

‘Cause before I wasn’t like that.

Naïve, dimwitted, almost sheltered.

Now, this is me today.

Full of regrets, but also full of dreams.

I used to be small and scrawny.

I used to be a mass of skin and blubber.

I believed in the honesty of people.

I was blessed and had a lot of friends. I always believed in love and friendship.

The sins of my grandfather. Have more friends than those who love you. Be popular instead of loved and desired. This guy now, it’s not the same thing.

If you have 5, 6, 7, or 10 close friends in a lifetime, they’ve all got something special. But nobody cares about you in the background.

What about booze? What about acceptance and cool points?

When you’ve been in so many social circles as I have (theatre, improv, parties, concerts), you want something more.

I tried something and I got hooked.

The crazy haired guy got hooked. The class clown got hooked. The nice guy and “brother” to many ladies I sought after got hooked.

I was wasted mentally and physically. To the point that I got out of it but got sucked back in. Temptation of a creative outlet and meeting like minded social butterflies like myself (maybe once upon a time).

But it’s all there. It’s all there.

It was really tough.

I saw people better off than me.

Still see people better off than me.

I went from a naïve nobody to a social maestro and still thought, why can’t I be like them, why can’t I have all the privileges? Why am I just a regular guy? It makes me sick to see people… who have what I’ve been chasing for so many years. Knowing I have the same qualities, too. Much more than them. It’s not my fault if I was cut out to be an ‘everyman.’ I asked for it. I asked for it, really believed in it. Because I felt an ‘everyman’ was safe. Someone remembered and admired, but never made a stain in the blanket of life.

When you’re 13, you believe in your dream. I didn’t want fame and fortune. I wanted infamy. And I was content if infamy meant in a social circle I’d have for life.

People have come and gone. Some needed to be cut. Some I put aside but never picked up again, like a puzzle or a childhood toy that doesn’t excite in the same way anymore.

Well, it came true for me. But it doesn’t feel like enough. Maybe I’m there now but will never see it as such. I feel I have miles to go before I reach my destination. And I still ask myself today what I’ve done on this Earth.

Nothing.

I’ve done nothing!

For myself.

If I faded away now, hoping to start all over here in Phoenix or in another city (Madison, Portland, or Dallas). Start over with my mind and get my health back and the physique I dreamed of, pick up again.

Alone or otherwise. Maybe future tales to come? Of new friends and new relationships. Heartbreak or sonnets of romance.

So, I really hope nobody pulls the trigger on me.

Today, I pray to God. I truly believe I’m not in a movie or a chapter of some great romanticized novel. It’s real life. Real life.

I’ve seen so many things.

I may have been born in the desert, but I'm a citizen of the world. I’ve traveled and accomplished a lot for someone like me, in my age bracket, in my educational and artistic capacity. It’s hard for me to judge people and it’s hard for them… not to judge me. Easier to blame me.

That’s the problem.

Yeah. Something like that.

[bourboncynic]

HELEN (Version 9.4)

My closure from you was a novella, published on Tumblr, for the whole world to see. This is how we end? Okay, noted.

I always planned to return to blogging. Or, an avenue where I can write down my bogus reflections on myself and life, in general. I never reckoned an explosive novella such as yours would bring me back. But here I am. I have nothing to lose at this juncture.

The novella…

I didn’t hear from you for days. Granted, we were having our hassles. I asked for a break so I could clear my head. I had to focus on my new job – I was slipping, drowning. Mistake after mistake. I couldn’t handle arguing and bickering with you daily, composing and sending hundreds upon hundreds of messages back and forth when all eyes are on me. I’d be damn if I left a good hospitality corporate position for a reputable hospital role only for it to be snagged from me only after a few months on the job.

You may recall, I asked if we could keep our messaging minimal. To keep all the arguing for a phone call or in-person so no intentions are misled. A day or so goes by and bam, we are back at it again, firing off messages back to where we began. This was our norm for weeks. I’m surprised I’m even still employed. I spent more of my first months on the job glued to a phone screen because you had to argue, chew me out, bash me, and victimize me. Allude repeatedly how much of a failure of a boyfriend I was being, how horrible of a person I have been, how selfish and inconsiderate I was being to YOU, even when I was coming to you for insight or moral support. It had to be about you, and at that very moment. If I was fired, I’d blame you. I’d have to. Because ultimately, it would be your fault. But knowing you, you’d disagree and find a way to make an argument about you. That’s how every argument has been.

You can only endure so much being called every negative name and phrase in the book before you feel wore down, broken and shattered, exhausted and gasping for air. You feel like you’re beaten down by a narcotic which brings you down, down, down. Our split was like after kicking withdrawals. An awakening. Like a few of my friends said (even early on in our dating, might I add)… how and why did you tolerate her constant put-downs and mood kills? “She only celebrates you so she can bring you down easily; bury you in a hole you can’t bring yourself up from, unless you concede and accept her hand for help. Then she’s won, and she knows exactly what she’s doing.” And believe me, it wasn’t just a few people patting me on the back and calling me a peach/angel/saint. More on that later on…

You say you saw warning signs about me beforehand? Funny you mention ‘em NOW after a breakup, but not before. I warned you again and again before we began anything. I’ve said it for years and years… I am an asshole, more honest and direct instead of mean. Sarcastic, cynical, realistic, but never sugarcoat or false. But once I find someone I want in my life, I am open, transparent, loyal, and above all else; committed. Friendship or more. I put up with a lot and take a lot before I finally crumble. But I have my faults and follies. I’m not a martyr, but I am also not a saint. I know it, I embrace it. I know I have much yet to learn and gain in my life as it continues, and never once will I admit I am the perfect form of myself. I’m a hundred miles from perfect. Maybe a good twenty from decent and collected. I’ve opened up to you. I’ve shown you my vulnerable side. But it was never enough.

I call people on their B.S. I never pick sides. I always play devil’s advocate. I never suck myself into people’s drama, a la social media. I give people a lick of their own medicine when needed, to knock ‘em off their high horse. Some people say all of that makes me an asshole. Fair enough. I’ll accept who I am. You knew ALL OF THIS beforehand. But believe me, you don’t even know the half of it. The stuff people have said about you. Even your own friends who now you turned against me. The same people you call your friends who you also talked a lot of smack about on a constant basis. Those same people had their gripes about you. You go ahead and keep those friends close. I never wanted them. I surround myself with real people, not fake ones.

The break helped cleanse me of all the stress, negativity, and hardships we were piling on each other. I came in with a clearer head and worked sensibly and attentively, like I (always) usually do.

And I had to open an emotionally draining play where each evening was a new technical problem to overcome. Not to mention the drama. Lord. I filled you in on all the details. You were supportive. You heard me when I needed to vent. To be honest, I wasn’t ready competently or even mentally to direct (name of show). Why? I should have used a break when I had a chance. The drama wouldn’t have changed any, but at least I’d be facing it with a better disposition.

Also, I’m exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Drained. I wake up and feel like I’m in my 60’s or 70’s. Why am I exhausted? Because I run ragged for months and months and months doing a hobby art I love? Sure. But also I was using all my energy, soul, mind, and body keeping you content. To not have a simple misunderstanding or disagreement from becoming a huge brawl of epic words and proportions. I should have been using a lot of it on my life, my well-being, my job, my art, my sanity, my soul. I couldn’t see clearly. Nor could I keep my head clear. I upped my medication. It only made me more on edge. This was no way to live. You knew. Who were we kidding ourselves, anyway? You remember the night I walked into an argument? An argument which had very little to nothing to do with me? You had a gripe about a rumor you heard about me a good (2-3) years before we even met? Wish I could say I had a fun night being lambasted every which possible.

Really, it was exhausting convincing myself I was happy. That both of us were happy. When I knew deep down I wasn’t. That neither of us were. And neither of us would change, could change, our lot in it all. I can do a busy schedule and be on the constant go-go-go, easily. Our hassles? No. At some point, I could’ve… and would’ve. Now, I can’t.

Yes, I did ask for a day of solitude. A day. So I could come up from the depths to breathe. Then I checked in on you. As much as I fought against it, I praised you for abiding to my simple, if selfish, request for solitude. I admit it was selfish. But it was best for me at the moment.

Truth be told, I didn’t expect to hear from you. I knew it was bound to end. It had to. I couldn’t make you happy. Because no matter how I went about it all, I would forever be the villain here. You would be the victim. I would be wrong. You would be right. The story of our relationship. We were just not compatible, and it brought the worst out in both of us. I felt certain you knew yourself it had to end as well. But a blog post to declare your end? I haven’t been dumped like that since high school. Over (15) years ago…

I just didn’t imagine this, a blog, a novella. A tirade of criticizing which goes on and on and on and on. When I saw you had posted it, I knew it wouldn’t be pretty. It’s not. It’s comical, pathetic, self-absorbed and centered, narcissistic, and; to be blunt, just not well-written. Not to say I’m a Hemingway or Fitzgerald in the world of blog writing. I just didn’t imagine you would lie, embellish, falsify, and pervert everything about me; everything I said and did… from the very beginning. (Before I knew the real you, before my head was in the clouds, before I was on cloud-nine; even if temporary).

(The last couple of weeks have been full of nostalgia anyway. Hearing old jams at random places. Thoughts of old friends who vanished. Friend suggestions showing on Facebook of people I much preferred to forget about. The glory days of AOL Instant Messenger, longboarding, livejournal, night drives with all the windows down, driving by neighborhoods I no longer recognize).

But you don’t wanna hear about that. Or any of this. You don’t wanna hear none of my revelations. After six months I now realize… I never stood a chance. Who I was wasn’t important. You didn’t really like me. You liked my obedience. As long as I did as you told, you were happy. As long as I obliged as you instructed, you were pleased. I was convenient. You didn’t have to put it any work. But I am not like that. I played along, unbeknownst I was your pawn. Whenever I broke away from your status quo, you somehow finagled me back into “my place.” Until I could no longer sit by and accept I was an unhealthy manifestation or intimidation of your ideal partner. 

So, my questioning of why you stayed when this is how you’ve felt all along is an oxymoron. Because I’ve been asking myself that for weeks now. This is how I have been handling our end. You have a gift. Of exploitation. Your exploitation of my calm and sensible persona. I was easily stepped on and over. You exploited me so I would always end up admitting I was at fault, even when I wasn’t. I had to be so consumed with you and only you that I lost every sense of being I once knew. I should have seen it coming. The only missing piece is now is a sappy Myspace profile headliner.

I know you shared your blog with everyone you know, and everyone we know as mutual friends. It’s long gone now, but people have whistleblowed. I won’t say who. You can try and guess. But some people were looking after me. You were always good at playing the victim mentality even when you had it good. However, it did not leave me a fair shot to retort or offer a comeback. Not even an explanation; a chance for me to say my peace. It allowed you vast range to embellish certain events, characteristics, and memories. Which you did. You’ll argue against it, but a lot of it is false and you know it is. I hope most people would look at your scribble and laugh. Truth be told, despite how much I’ve read your tirade, I still don’t know if I should laugh, feel sorry for you, or be scared of you.

I do admit, occasionally I do find myself feeling low when I read your novella. On other days, I laugh in the sheer stupidity, incorrectness, and melodrama all buried under your words. If I wasn’t already an overly-analytical, paranoid schmuck, I’d bury you and your novella in my rhetorical shoebox of forgettable memories. But, because I can’t help who I am; I can’t help but be swayed at a sensitive moment; only because I’m analytical and paranoid and cynical to begin with, NOT because you hit it home.

As much as I would like to break it all down and explain where and when you got it wrong, I won’t. I’m knackered. This is hard for me as well, believe it or not. But I just can’t anymore. I never liked fighting with you. But Jesus, enough is enough. Maybe you wrote it all as a peace of mind for yourself. Maybe it was bait to lure me to respond. Maybe it was to spite me, and bring me down to anybody and everyone you know who’ll listen. This is not the first that someone romantically has attempted to sabotage me. So, I will do the only sensible act I can do at this juncture… remove myself. Say it all. Share it all if you must. This is high school shit, and like I’ve said to you before, I’m not playing your games. Not anymore.

You were a great gal, and it’s a shame it ended like it did. You deserve to be happy. And I pray you do find the fellow who will do just that. My respect for you hasn’t changed. I will regard you positively. I will never hold bad blood with you, because you had my heart once. And I would never do that to someone who stole my heart, when I wasn’t even expecting it. You are, and will continue to be, the talented, beautiful, adorable, spunky, intelligent, hopeful, and delightfully weird women I fell for in October. The only regret I can say is as follows. I apologize for never being much of a warm-and-fuzzy talker who could entice you with compliments. And I’m sorry I never seemed like I supported you artistically. Yes, I was always on the defense and brought my past into everything you were doing to benefit your artistic hobby. Those faults I will accept, and I regret I was like this with you. It’s something I know I can work on, and will work on. But, that was at best a sentence or two of your novella that really spoke true about me.

The most disgraceful moment of it all… you bashed my own mother, on several occasions, who doesn’t even have a blog or any means of knowing she’s under fire in your novella. I never once criticized your mother or family, despite how much you’ve openly complained about ‘em or mocked or ridiculed or used as a reason to be pouty all night. But it’s alright by you to criticize my mother? Especially when you don’t give me an opportunity to say my rebuttal. That’s a low move. You don’t know me. You never would meet my friends. Lord knows I had to beg you to meet my folks. Literally beg and plead. You were so nervous. They adored you, very much like I adored you. However, you don’t know my support system. I have friends. I have great friends. I have friends I don’t need to speak to daily. I wished some of ‘em lived in Phoenix or had more availability for the fun gigs we used to do. But it’s life. They have families; new wives and new children. The others live in a different state. My other friends I lost to the bottle. They’re around, but I can’t help ‘em any longer. My support system is not all dandelions and confidence boosters. I have friends who will gladly put me in my place, call me all kinds of expletives, really make me sit and contemplate my life. They have before. Some gave me a piece of my own medicine when you and I were rocky. One gave it bad in fact. Yes, others had my back and counseled me like I was kin. Some of your friends do it for you; and I know, I have proof, so don’t act all high and mighty like it’s wrong of me.

You made your decision. It was for the best. Now you have to let me say my peace. Because I’ve had sleepless nights a plenty since the split. I’ve talked to people. I buried myself in a pillow afraid to face the world. I’ve released you with love but also released you with anger, depending on the day and the dosage of medication in my system. This is my peace. After this, I won’t speak of it (us) again. You owe me this. It’s only fair. You won’t even read this, so who gives a fuck if you approve or not.

So I’ll leave it at this... I’m sorry we didn’t work. I’m sorry we were just not compatible. You deserve to be happy. I release you with love, respect, admiration; and will regard you positively from here on out. I will never hold bad blood with you, now or ever; because you did have my heart, which you may call bullshit on. It’s your right, but I’m saying it here now, loud, and proud. And that’s about all I can do to convince you. You are, and will continue to be, the talented, beautiful, adorable, spunky, intelligent, hopeful, and delightfully weird women I fell for. And I don’t regret a thing.

This was the best medicine all along. I’m glad I listened to my gut and to a professional. Write it down. Be transparent. I should’ve done this days ago. But again, I didn’t focus on my own happiness and sanity. I was only focused on yours. But no more. This is my year to better myself. To get to how I used to be. My walls are back up. My asshole guard is back on track. Thank you for everything. Truly. But now is my turn to walk away and not let you hang over me like a bad dream. This is my story... and I’m sticking to it.