Everyone would look at me funny... if I said I spoke with God today.
Honestly, I don't even know if it was God as presented in the Christian philosophies, some other popular deity, perhaps the God and Goddess... I dunno. But I spoke with something, I'm sure.
I know it was something else... because none of the voices in my head sound like a Hawaiian native.
Whatever it was didn't stay long. In fact, it didn't really talk in the conversational sense. It said just one sentence to me. One, that's all.
You know, of course, if you put the bullets in the gun and shoot through the floor, you're going to play house to some chick with a mustache named Bertha.
Nevermind the fact that I wouldn't be aiming for an actual person. I'm not a killer (so far that I know of). I was aiming for the stereo. The one being played at decibels so loud it sounds like someone's beating on the ceiling. (That's actually the downbeat)
Honest.
So the guns stayed unloaded, even though the stereo deserves to die.
But, if the chance ever came around... to paint that mural previously mentioned... I might not be able to resist it.
"She's been watching too much 'Gay Purr-ee'."
And now, an open letter: (names changed to protect the idiot)
Dear Ashati,
How are you? I hear life is not being kind to you. Of course, you yourself have not told me this. Is it because you realize now that you've burned the bridge? It's ashes, like you and I.
Honestly, even after all the crap you pulled and your so called views of friendship, I'm not angry at you. Someone said I had a right to hate you, but I don't. You see, hating you or being upset would mean I still cared on some level.
I couldn't care less, now. And I owe it all to you.
Do you remember the very first nail you struck in the coffin, dear? I was having family problems Yes, they were similar to the last problems, but they were still there. Just like you and yours that I'd listened to over and over and over again. But you said you were tired of hearing about my problems. I guess I had bored you with it.
And yet, it never once occurred to you that I felt the same way? How often do I have to hear about your grandmother doing this, your aunt doing that? How many times did I listen to old stories of your mother, eh? And you never thought I got tired of hearing about it, did you?
Well, at the time, you were my friend. You never really learned, that's what friends do. They listen, even when they may not want to.
And over the years, I would continue to give. I'm not a saint. Boy, I'm no saint. Maybe you would have been better off in San Diego and graduating there. Maybe I was being a bit needy when I called crying, because you made me think you were the only person who understood me.
But you chose to come back. I didn't force you, and I didn't hold a gun to your head. No, it was your choice. I just happened to be an easy excuse so you could go and pour some sob story onto some other unsuspecting shmuck about how you came back for me, when you could have graduated high school if you'd stayed.
And yet, I note you've had a better than ample opportunity to finish HS. Hell, you even got me to enroll... then dropped out.
Another nail, mind you.
Now I will admit to the biggest mistake in our friendship and my life. Your... boyfriend. Yes, I am clinically depressed. Yes, at the time, I was very much screwed up in the head. Yes, he took advantage of that and we slept together... well, actually, it was like the worse five minutes of my life.
I frankly don't see what you were screaming about all those nights. Unless you were practicing your acting skills.
But anyway, I've said I'm sorry so many times I was blue in the face. But it wasn't enough for you. You said you forgave me, but didn't. Well, guess what? I can't say sorry anymore. Don't get me wrong, I regret it, but I don't like empty words, and I won't give them.
You want me to say sorry for eternity? Well, sorry is only a word now. I'm not doing it. I can't be sorry anymore.
And I digress. You see, before, that ever happened, something else came along. Something else that was the last nail in the coffin. I just wasn't aware of it at the time.
Remember? No? Let me refresh. My stepfather and my uncle. They both have something very important in common.
Still guessing? That's okay, you weren't as smart as you wanted me to believe, anyway.
They're both dead for one, and both times you said you'd come to the funeral.
Both times you didn't.
That wasn't the worse part, though. No, not even. What sealed it shut was when you told me why
For my stepfather's, you said you had been to so many funerals that you just couldn't go to another one.
likes to be used. But that's all you do. You do nothing to enrich the lives of the people you prey upon under the thin veneer of friendship. To you, they're all resources to be used until either the resources are dry, or you get bored with them.
But I stopped it. I stopped it because I refuse to be one of your playthings. I refused to simply let you get bored. I left before the game was through playing and it bothers you still. That's why you always try.
Save us both the trouble, don't. There is nothing there. It's gone. We can't be what you want any longer. I won't be that any longer.
C'mon, chick. You lied to me. You lied from day one. Sure, we had a few good times. There was the L.A. Guns concert, then later the GN'R one (which I paid for, in case you forgot, but it didn't matter). I wasn't even asking for your money (because I shelled out more than my fair share on you, didn't I? Who was it that had to go to their mother when you didn't have enough to eat, hmm? Who did you play for a sucker before I left?). But your time was too precious, I suppose.
Does it bother you to know I don't need or want your time anymore?
The times have come and gone. You can't reclaim the past, and in this case, I don't want to. Let it die, alright? Just remember the good times and go find some other schmuck. There's plenty out there, I'm sure.
But one day you're going to have to wake up and realize you can't get by on people for the rest of your life. You're an adult now, just like myself. You have to take responsibility. I'm sorry your mother passed away. I'm sorry that you feel stuck in that age where everything would be taken care of for you and all you had to worry about was a good time. That time is gone, indeed if it ever existed already.
Are you really happy letting someone else, be it another person, Fate, Chance, Whim... dictate which way your life is going to go?
Sorry, I can't.
I hope you get to that point you're looking for. Until then, farewell.
Gen
