Friends like this
Everyone has friends like this.
Last night, I got a text out of nowhere from a highschool boyfriend. Steve. Dated him for a while, year and a half, for the end of my senior year and into college. The text was just "How's it going," but strange nontheless 'cause I hadn't talked to him in over a year. Last time I saw him, I was disgusted. He used to be one one of those people that showered twice a day, wanted to make a good impression, pressed his undershirts and underwear, smelled good, didn't drink too much, smoked weed. Then he looked like he hadn't showered in awhile. He'd turned into a chain-smoker with yellow teeth. Raging drunk. His bedroom consisted of boxes full of empty forty bottles, piled on other boxes of empty forty bottles. Every surface had empty liquor and beer junk on it. Even the bed was covered in trash. He'd been running the gamut of drugs with his prevalent drinking. I couldn't help but feel incredibly guilt. When I had broken up with him, it was because he would come over to my house in the middle of the night crying. Want to talk about his mom, his dad, how life sucks, all the horrible atrocities that had happened in the life of Steve. I got tired of being his personal therapist, and he was too manly for professional help. So I cut him loose. Shortly after, I got stories through the grapevine of car accidents Steve was in after drinking an entire fifth of gin, or 4-forties, or two-pack of tall cans. Then stories of running into tweeker Steve, high on meth, coke, tranqs. He wasn't like that before. Now he is.
Although I know none of this had to do with me, just his weakness as a person, it made me feel bad. I was intimately associated with this guy for a long time. I was his best friend, we had fun. Last time I saw him, he told me I kept him sane during that time, I left and he didn't have anyone to help. Way to lay the blame. I immediately shot back that he had turned into a giant waste of life. He was running himself into the ground, a no-good junkie, drunk just like his dad. Poor him, he didn't have friends. Maybe if he didn't act like a fucking weird druggie, always drunk, making asshole comments, people would come around more often. He was alienating himself with his behaviors and attitude; no one wanted to be around him because he was making them uncomfortable. If no one was gong to be honest with him, I was. Ignorant ass. I obviously have no tolerance for self-pity and wasted lives.
After I got that message, I texted a friend who knew Steve to tell her about the stange coincedence. We had been talking about when he was a stud and the ladies loved him, how I stole him, blahblah. She promptly calls me. I find out his mom had a brain tumor recently found, and his dad had been diagnosed with leukemia, both were dying. Everyone who used to be friends with him in highschool invited him out for a movie; reconnect, see if he's alright, not suicidal. But he was still a fucking strange fuck. As soon as he showed, everyone wanted to take him home it was so weird being around him and his warped thoughts, twisted macabre comments about crap. Everyone felt bad for him, till he showed he wasn't even making an effort to clean up, or move forward. Just wanted everyone to feel bad for him, sorry for him. Stupid fucking pathetic asshole loser.
I was thinking about the impact that whole story made on me. I realized, I'm getting older, and more and more I am hearing of people I used to know making strides in life. Forward, or backwards, I hear about friends getting married, so-and-so has kids, blahblah and who-cares are divorcing, whos-it moved away and anyone died. It's just sad to hear of Steve. It hit so close to home, his life is practically distroyed, by no one's fault but his own. And the older I get, the more I'll hear it. It startles me. Through the grapevine, I hear it all. And it's only gonna get worse, or better. I can sit back and monitor the ebbs and flows of life by listening to what other people are going through. It's a crazy, jarring perspective. Sometimes it's hard to get out of my own tunnel vision. That what isn't affecting me may be affecting others, and what is affecting me isn't always affecting others. Life *gasp* goes on?
Last night, I got a text out of nowhere from a highschool boyfriend. Steve. Dated him for a while, year and a half, for the end of my senior year and into college. The text was just "How's it going," but strange nontheless 'cause I hadn't talked to him in over a year. Last time I saw him, I was disgusted. He used to be one one of those people that showered twice a day, wanted to make a good impression, pressed his undershirts and underwear, smelled good, didn't drink too much, smoked weed. Then he looked like he hadn't showered in awhile. He'd turned into a chain-smoker with yellow teeth. Raging drunk. His bedroom consisted of boxes full of empty forty bottles, piled on other boxes of empty forty bottles. Every surface had empty liquor and beer junk on it. Even the bed was covered in trash. He'd been running the gamut of drugs with his prevalent drinking. I couldn't help but feel incredibly guilt. When I had broken up with him, it was because he would come over to my house in the middle of the night crying. Want to talk about his mom, his dad, how life sucks, all the horrible atrocities that had happened in the life of Steve. I got tired of being his personal therapist, and he was too manly for professional help. So I cut him loose. Shortly after, I got stories through the grapevine of car accidents Steve was in after drinking an entire fifth of gin, or 4-forties, or two-pack of tall cans. Then stories of running into tweeker Steve, high on meth, coke, tranqs. He wasn't like that before. Now he is.
Although I know none of this had to do with me, just his weakness as a person, it made me feel bad. I was intimately associated with this guy for a long time. I was his best friend, we had fun. Last time I saw him, he told me I kept him sane during that time, I left and he didn't have anyone to help. Way to lay the blame. I immediately shot back that he had turned into a giant waste of life. He was running himself into the ground, a no-good junkie, drunk just like his dad. Poor him, he didn't have friends. Maybe if he didn't act like a fucking weird druggie, always drunk, making asshole comments, people would come around more often. He was alienating himself with his behaviors and attitude; no one wanted to be around him because he was making them uncomfortable. If no one was gong to be honest with him, I was. Ignorant ass. I obviously have no tolerance for self-pity and wasted lives.
After I got that message, I texted a friend who knew Steve to tell her about the stange coincedence. We had been talking about when he was a stud and the ladies loved him, how I stole him, blahblah. She promptly calls me. I find out his mom had a brain tumor recently found, and his dad had been diagnosed with leukemia, both were dying. Everyone who used to be friends with him in highschool invited him out for a movie; reconnect, see if he's alright, not suicidal. But he was still a fucking strange fuck. As soon as he showed, everyone wanted to take him home it was so weird being around him and his warped thoughts, twisted macabre comments about crap. Everyone felt bad for him, till he showed he wasn't even making an effort to clean up, or move forward. Just wanted everyone to feel bad for him, sorry for him. Stupid fucking pathetic asshole loser.
I was thinking about the impact that whole story made on me. I realized, I'm getting older, and more and more I am hearing of people I used to know making strides in life. Forward, or backwards, I hear about friends getting married, so-and-so has kids, blahblah and who-cares are divorcing, whos-it moved away and anyone died. It's just sad to hear of Steve. It hit so close to home, his life is practically distroyed, by no one's fault but his own. And the older I get, the more I'll hear it. It startles me. Through the grapevine, I hear it all. And it's only gonna get worse, or better. I can sit back and monitor the ebbs and flows of life by listening to what other people are going through. It's a crazy, jarring perspective. Sometimes it's hard to get out of my own tunnel vision. That what isn't affecting me may be affecting others, and what is affecting me isn't always affecting others. Life *gasp* goes on?
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TheJoeD on
Hmm...reminds me of someone I know.
What I know for sure, is that you can only help people who ultimately want help. You can't help someone who sits there and accuses life of wronging him/her.
As you get older, cutting losses and looking out for number 1 are key. That's what I've been doing.
What I know for sure, is that you can only help people who ultimately want help. You can't help someone who sits there and accuses life of wronging him/her.
As you get older, cutting losses and looking out for number 1 are key. That's what I've been doing.
Fleur on
I know and understand that, I've almost gotten over the remorse, it was very odd to see, so blatantly, change. Showed me that I will change and not be the same person I am now, who is not the same person I was in college, or highschool or when I was twelve, etc. Change. I cut my losses and bad-apple friends way to well.
