I didn't think that it would hurt me that we are no longer talking. You asked me if I had felt anything, and I didn't, and yet I feel as though I have lost a friend, and that makes it somehow worse.
We had a lot in common. We had nothing in common.
You are optimistic, naive. Someone once told me that we all have this thing, called the "saving people" complex, but in my line of work it has been hammered into me that we are not here to "save" people, that the people we work with do not need to be "saved". Because who are we to say that we have all the answers? What is it about us that means we have our lives so together, that we can salvage the remnants of someone else's? There is no us, no them. We are all the same. We are all different.
And you wanted to save me.
It didn't make me hate you, that part of you that implied I needed saving, and that you, in all your pretentious white knight glory, you, think that you can bring all the light I need into the darkness that is my. life.
It didn't make me hate you, but over time I would have resented you.
Because who the hell do you think you are?
There is that moment, when being yourself becomes the mask, when being cloaked in yourself meant that you were powerful, invincible, because you are shouting to the world that you know who you are, that these parts of yourself that other people keep hidden, that other people are afraid of because they refuse to acknowledge that they can be just as selfish, as petty, as ugly as the next person.
I am not depressed because I am me. I am depressed because you are you. You know how they say "it's not you, it's me"?
It's not me, it's you.
No comments:
Post a Comment