Wrench

I didn't sleep well last night. No music could relax me. No pain could exhaust me. Every moment, I was deeper into my world, my Void. Tomorrow, I've got to put on a happy face; I have an appointment to a meeting with someone from the MVA. They're talking about stripping my liscense to drive. I don't feel happy, and I don't feel well.

I could blame it on my friend in Tulsa, but that would be a lie. The real issue is what he represents. He has women hanging all over him, lies his ass off, and can use anyone for his selfish purposes, including me. I'm not as upset with what he's done as the way he uses me to wrench other people. He lies, cheats, and does drugs, yet somehow manages to have life served on a platter to him with my help. I love the friends he's left in his wake; I wouldn't have met them otherwise. However, this piece of crap has peace, love, sanity, and understanding heaped on his lap at every turn. Never mindful of this, as soon as he's done with one woman or friend, he's on to the next one.

It seems like I've told him a hundred times to straighten up and fly right, and he's agreed every single time. He's just wrenching me every time we talk. I gave him 24 hours to call me; when he does call me, if he wrenches me, he's persona non grata. If he decides to remain silent until after tomorrow, I fully intend to walk away and never look back. He doens't deserve my friendship or my assistance.

I won't keep putting the pieces of his wandering disaster back together forever. I've been a good friend to him for a long time, but he's never done anything but wrench me since high school. It all comes down to tolerance. I can't be around people I know in pain. I just can't do it. However, it seems the people around me have a near infinite tolerance to my pain. I'll always be crazy, but sometimes I wish for a little bit of happiness. None is forthcoming. Peace, love, and understanding make me happy. People throw it away and waste it on my friend in Tulsa, but in my hours of need, I am alone. When people need a wrench, they use me. When I need a hand, they pull back.

I know exceptions to these rules in varying degrees. You know who you are. I won't make a list of you here. This post is not an indictment of you, it's exposition of my general circumstances. However, there is no exception to what follows.

I've spoken before on my drowning man. It doesn't have to be an ocean to drown me: I can drown in a bowl of soup. Watch me.