June 20th, 2008

Thirteen

I kinda want to hate my friends.  I want to be angry and ignore them and say I don't want to hang out this weekend because last weekend was so fucking miserable.  But then they are my friends, and I want friends, don't I?  I am fucking 13.  Except I am 26.  Damn.  I'm living a life that isn't my own, that isn't what I imagined, but its like I can't leave because now I have a career and close friends, so close that they piss me off, and even a gay cafe.  I want to tell them how they piss me off, but then I'm too tired from this job to have the energy to argue about it, so I just let it go, which isn't me, so they probably think its fine.  Ever since moving here, I've had moments of 'thats it, I'm leaving' and now I have them significantly less frequently.  Perhaps I feel that I couldn't go, that I'm used to this life now.  But then I can't live here.  I have an ex here I might see, and an evil old co-worker who I got fired.  I'm significantly more used to running away than to staying.  God.  I am 13.