your folks told me you should be left alone on a mountaintop, knocking the aeroplanes down with stones.

I think that's over. It completely sounds like I'm contemplating the death of a romance, but... Color me sentimental if I value even the idea of a friendship enough to want to fight for it.

I suppose it turned out that there wasn't really anything to fight for in the first place. I don't know if I ever suspected that.
I do know that I've always feared that the people I knew and valued saw me that way, judged me, and found me deeply lacking. It hurts to know that this particular Crazy was justified, that months of anxiety and worry at not being good enough were.... Well, I was right. That will be hard to recover from. Has been, as it leaked out over these past weeks and months.
And I'm out. I shrug as I tap this out because I can't, don't want to, don't see the point of trying. I don't even want to talk over or think about the specifics. The more strange we are, the more we will become people we used to know for a little while.

The hard part will be putting myself right again, growing back all the qualities and strengths I cut off.

Maybe I'm being too dramatic about this. To some people, it would seem so. But I think the people with whom I surround myself, in any capacity, have a great and important bearing on me, and I don't think that's stupid.

I've had cause to reflect on a different person lately. It's odd to call a. an old friend, and I'm not sure why. It's been, what, close to five years? And in some ways, it's really good, fun and laughable. And I am really happy that he confides in me, always has to some extent, and I hope that I am comforting to him in some way.

The thing is, I don't think I quite understand him. It's so easy for me to get that unspoken read on everyone else, even people I don't know at all. And I don't quite feel comfortable telling him things- or rather, I have recently come to do so, rely on him in a way I never have, and I don't know why. Do I really want to open up my can of crazy for the inspection for more than a minute? What must he think of me, after all this time? And especially lately, when I have been at my most frazzled, my most manufactured?

If not for the previously mentioned events of the day, I wouldn't be thinking like this. With some people, most admittedly males, I take pride in acting as myself and damning them (not really) if they don't like it. I wish I were like that with everyone, and more often. But if you met me at a certain time, in a certain mood, you wouldn't know me as self-conscious and terrified. Not for a little while, at least.

I'm thinking in circles and writing little curlicues around myself. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe I'm a little divided lately, due to defense mechanisms, and trying to feel out which parts are real. Maybe I have cause to question people today.
All the same, some lovely boy is just finishing his very last night at an awful job and it is about time to celebrate. Wake up, little girl. Shake off the round thoughts and wake up.

I'm tired of thinking so much about myself, and about petty details of relationships I should have understood from the first. Tonight I shall think only of him, and of making him as happy as he should be. If only I had blue paint, he could borrow my skirt, color his face and shout, "freedom!"