The One Where My Past Is Haunting Me
The hits keep on coming. They keep finding me. More and more people from my past are contacting me and trying to catch up. On one hand, it's nice. It's great to hear from people who were important, or not so important, to me 10 years ago. On the other hand, it reminds me of all the things I escaped.
One of my best friends from high school started contacting me this month. She was really only my friend senior year, but she almost single-handedly helped me get through the worst year of my life. She was always there with a smile and a comforting word, and she took me out to meet new people when things were going awful with my friends. It's great to hear from her and find out about her family, but browsing through some photos on her myspace page, I was reminded of what I have been running from my whole life. There was a picture of her with her three kids and husband, and she had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in another. I've been running from that my whole life. That's what I would have had if I had stayed with Barry -- an unhappy stay-at-home mom with three kids who gets through every day with cigs and beer. Maybe she's really happy, but it was my worst nightmare.
And then I was reminded of the other nightmare. The guy who bought me my beer when I was 17 -- and stalked me when I was 18 -- has been texting me. I think I mentioned him earlier. Anyway, he would text every morning at 5:55 a.m. when he first woke up. That's weird on many levels, but it's annoying on one key level -- I'm still asleep. So I asked him after a week to stop texting me before 7 a.m., 9 a.m. on the weekends. He said he would but didn't. I texted him again and asked him again. He didn't. So finally, I texted him and told him not to text me in the morning anymore. He texted me back and said, "Don't be mad. I'm a pothead. I just forget." For any of you who know me, you know how hurtful this simple statement is. I have spent my whole life feeling that pot was more important than me. I have spent my whole life trying to get potheads to love me and treat me like I'm important. I know that allowing me my extra hour of sleep might not seem like a big deal, but to me, it is. I have boundaries, and I think my friends should respect them. They should not forget because they are potheads. I didn't text him back, and I haven't heard from him since.
One of my best friends from high school started contacting me this month. She was really only my friend senior year, but she almost single-handedly helped me get through the worst year of my life. She was always there with a smile and a comforting word, and she took me out to meet new people when things were going awful with my friends. It's great to hear from her and find out about her family, but browsing through some photos on her myspace page, I was reminded of what I have been running from my whole life. There was a picture of her with her three kids and husband, and she had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in another. I've been running from that my whole life. That's what I would have had if I had stayed with Barry -- an unhappy stay-at-home mom with three kids who gets through every day with cigs and beer. Maybe she's really happy, but it was my worst nightmare.
And then I was reminded of the other nightmare. The guy who bought me my beer when I was 17 -- and stalked me when I was 18 -- has been texting me. I think I mentioned him earlier. Anyway, he would text every morning at 5:55 a.m. when he first woke up. That's weird on many levels, but it's annoying on one key level -- I'm still asleep. So I asked him after a week to stop texting me before 7 a.m., 9 a.m. on the weekends. He said he would but didn't. I texted him again and asked him again. He didn't. So finally, I texted him and told him not to text me in the morning anymore. He texted me back and said, "Don't be mad. I'm a pothead. I just forget." For any of you who know me, you know how hurtful this simple statement is. I have spent my whole life feeling that pot was more important than me. I have spent my whole life trying to get potheads to love me and treat me like I'm important. I know that allowing me my extra hour of sleep might not seem like a big deal, but to me, it is. I have boundaries, and I think my friends should respect them. They should not forget because they are potheads. I didn't text him back, and I haven't heard from him since.
posted by Rachel at
8:36 PM
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