An Open Letter

Look. It's not my fault, okay? I know it may seem like I say that a lot, but really, it's because it's not.

I cannot help that I am awesome. (Yes, it's a known fact. Go look it up if you wanna. I could provide you with fistfulls of references, but I'm not the one with time for that kinda crap. I'm awesome, remember?) I cannot help that people are programmed to like awesome, so that you, out of human necessity, became drawn to me. Things like this happen; I blame Aristotle and his logic.

I wanted to hang out; I even planned on it. I told people. The thing is, I have these circles. Circles of loyalty, I call them. (Someone once told me that I should see a psychiatrist as I was trying to explain these loyalty circles to him, so I don't know how off-the-wall they really are, but it seems perfectly reasonable to me. So, since I'm cool with them, we're going to go with it.) Because, you see, I am only one person. And clones freak me out to maybe even an unnecessary degree, so that's certainly not an option for me. Instead, I suppose I prioritize people. The closer we are, the higher of a priority I make you. Also, the deeper your need for my help gets you a higher priority, but it seems somehow that the people I keep closest to me need maybe the most help. (See an earlier post, wherein I confessed that I like crazy. I think that explains it well enough. Or maybe just that I care more? Or both?)

You have no idea what's going on in my life, but I promise you that sleep has left off being any sort of priority for me. I get it in stolen snatches, wherever and whenever, because who knows who will call next, or fall apart next, or need a shoulder to wimper coldly upon next. I need to call, and fall apart, and wimper coldly many many nights, so I can understand on a deep, compassionate level how inadequate yet how welcome another presence can be. And I refuse to not be there for these people, these people that I love and admire with all of my young, young, terribly young heart.

So when you called today, and I was so tired that it hurt to the root of my toes, and I knew that simple English speech was far beyond me, and even the ringing of my cell phone wasn't really making sense...well. You can see why I didn't answer. But I'm still not sure why you got so angry. Dude, you barely know me. I know: That's not a good response. But consider it, at least for a moment, maybe instead of lecturing me on decency. You already have my apology sitting at your feet.

Something came up. Something big. You need to respect that; and realize that not everyone is out to disappoint you. You're cool; it's why I was looking forward to hanging out. Believe in that coolness. Go on -- take it, and go do something with it. Like maybe forgive me.

Or not, your call. But I'm still awesome, no matter how you feel about me.