There it is.
You want me to bail you out.
You don't call. You don't write. You don't want to meet up. Your new friends are all more exciting than me. So much better. So much easier to deal with. No Emo Baggage.
No baggage plain and simple.
Then. Why. Do. You. Call. Me. Now?
When the shit hits the fan? When the bombs explode too close to home? Where are your great new friends you run around having fun with? Why come to me when you need something? Am I the can-do girl you fall back on when the going gets tough? Why don't you ask them to git you out of your bind?
Am I jealous, you dare ask?
How dare you? Do I look like I'm jealous?
Thrown on the Yesterday heap: yes.
You know, I know all your deep dark sordid little secrets. All your flaws. All your nasty eccentricities. And yet you could not suffer the same in me. You wanted joy. You wanted constant happy-go-luckiness. And that is why, I am yesterday's buddy.
Ton amie du passe, si?
You thought I was a burden, you thought I was a write-off when I became uncool, unhip, unhappy, unaware of anything else but my own grief. You thought that people should snap out of grief after a 'scheduled mourning period'. You thought that I was tiresome, boring, and a clingyneedyannoying mess. You wanted your fun friend back... the hoppedupjazzeduppeppedup gigglydizzywildfunnyloonyfarm friend. You did not understand and you did not see. The depths of grief a human being could sink to. Never having felt, how could you know? Never having grieved, how could you feel?
But this you always knew. I was dependable. I was your security blanket. I would be there in a heartbeat if you ever needed me. Even if we were not on talking or lepaking terms, I would always be there to rescue you. And have done so many times in the past. So even if we were not the closest of friends now or even friends at all, you brazenly assume the same. That I will always be there. That I am always there. In the shadows. Ready for you to lean on. In a heartbeat.
Well, sod that corny crap. It does not apply here anymore.
I got news for you buddy boy. I stopped being your dependable mate once you decided I was no longer good enough to hang out with. Sure... your new friends are shiny happy people. Sure... they are ultra yuppy, ultra hip and ultra-ULTRA cool. But you can't ask them for help as they're not the 'helping' sort. They're the 'laugh and the world laughs with you' sort of people. They're the 'cry and you cry alone' folks. Shall I flog the poor dead horse some more for you?
So whatcha gonna do now, hmmm? Eat humble pie at my kitchen table? Sorry then to disappoint you, the cupboard's all empty as we're not serving pie. We're not serving you with anything, except a goodbye notice. You aren't welcome anymore here. I've gotten over you. It's taken me the better part of 2 years. But here it is. I can finally say it. I don't want to be friends with you anymore. I don't want you in my life anymore. You threw me away. You didn't want me.
Now go find someone else to bail you out. Maybe one of the shiny happy people you currently call your friends.
Over and out.