It's The Worst

As I've grown up, well I'm sure a lot of us go through these sorts of things, I begin to have this sudden realization.
I don't want to be taken advantage of or be taken for as a fool. If I really care for someone, I tend to let down my guard and they will grow to know every single aspect of me. They will love some things, hate others, and learn to deal. That's what you do when you care and love someone.
I've done that plenty of times and been extremely let down; from family to close friends.
I let people in and then once betrayal happens I let them go along with a part of me. I take a step back and look at people I was once really close with and see them happy without me. I don't expect them to be upset, don't get me wrong. I just see that I don't really matter as much as I wish I would of to them. To some, I matter a lot. I've had people who I hadn't talked to in months and years suddenly come back and tell me how much they miss my presence there, but I don't let it phase me because I'm smart enough to not get trapped back in.
To those currently I care for and love the most, I seem just like another person there. I argue with those I love a lot and it's almost heartbreaking because I feel like it's going to be the end soon. I don't want another end. I have too many of those and I don't think I could take another one. I grow onto people and sometimes get too close.
That's one flaw I hate about myself, but have learned to deal with. I'm not ignorant, I just want consistency.

I've grown through life thinking those people will always be there. Day after day, year after year, until we get old.
In reality, that's not even close to it. There are those rare occasions where someone you've known all your life stays in your life till the end. That's the way I would like it to be, but being open-minded doesn't allow me to believe that.
I guess past friendships and relationships don't allow me to believe in forever and till the end because it's always been a constant end to everything.
It's an insecurity I guess. At least I believe it to be.

I don't want to be forgotten, especially by those who I love the upmost. I don't want to be left behind, but sometimes I can't help, but feel that because I love and care more than most and I don't always get that back.
And sometimes I don't get that at all.

It's Rediculous Really.

I laid staring straight into the wall, the one I always stared at every night before my eyes begged me to go to sleep. I thought about everything and when I say everything I mean anything.
I remembered earlier that day, my mom was talking to me about the divorce proceedings my grandparents were going through. I hated hearing every single word of this conversation. It was never ending.
I wanted to get up and just walk away, ignore and push away every word coming out of her mouth.
It wasn't her fault, it wasn't any ones.
This was really happening. The separation between the "two families" would be completely legalized. You could literally read it in print.
It was better for my grandma. She endured so much, it was unbelievable. Fifty or something years of the drunkard of a grandpa I had and his repetitious behavior.

Walking into he room with a mouth of drunken breath and not being fully aware of how to act; his yelling at my grandmother in front of every single one of us who hadn't left yet because of this; and the constant slamming of doors every Sunday. The loud voices, the uneasiness of not knowing what's next, and the absolute dreaded sight of beer after beer in his unsteady hand reaching up past his red neck and face from years of drinking and quickly flowing into his mouth. This would continue for hours and hours. The routine of drinking every day after work and cases more on the weekend was what we knew.

This was the only way I once knew my grandfather at least before I left him entirely.

Is it wrong to say I miss him? At least what he used to be. It's ridiculous right? I should be entirely full of hatred toward a man who an uncontrollable abuse that got him away from the real world, but made it all completely real for us.
I'm not emotional. I'm not sensitive. I will not show my feelings in front of anyone.

But the thought of him. Any thoughts of him.
Just completely kills me inside and tears stream down my face because I can hardly remember his face. I can hardly remember any good that was with one of the most important people in my life. I can hardly remember how long it's been since I've seen him and the last time I stepped foot into what used to be my grandparents home. I wonder what he thinks and if he misses me as well. That's a doubt in my head that I can't seem to wrap myself around and that I don't want to understand. It's been months and it'll turn into years and one of these days I'll see him, but I won't say a word because he'll be long gone before then.

I can't remember because I won't remember. I wonder because I want him to wonder. It's been too long and I begin to hope that this changes. It won't, but it doesn't hurt to hope.
Well hope for something that will never be.

This Is How It Is

I woke up and my eyes were moist. I was crying. I had to remember exactly why.
That's right. I was daydreaming about something deep inside.

. . . . I was sitting on the bus stop waiting for my brother. He came running across the street and he sat next to me. We waited usually about 30 minutes, so this would be a long wait. As usual, cars passed us, usually small ones, but sometimes trucks. Then something caught my attention. From across the street I could see this garbage truck. It was green with the symbol of the company engraved neatly on the side for everyone to see. . . .

This was the same garbage truck I used to see all the time. The one that would be parked right in front as he jumped off and hurried across the yard, careful not to step on the grass. He would run inside, ignoring my grandma, took a hold of his sandwich, mumble under his breath as my grandma always would irritate him with anything she did, and quickly run out the door and jump back in the truck and head off onto his next route. She would look out the door, disappointed, sad, angry, upset, but then look back at me like it was just another day. "He's in a hurry", she said.
I knew my grandma. She wasn't happy, that was known. Everyone knew that. You could guess it by her tone of voice and her melancholy expressions.
I couldn't bare to explain the pain I knew she was in, but that wasn't the point. That was past the point. Every single person in our family knew this. We know how this would end, but how would we be able to deal with it when it did happen?

. . . as the truck pulled in the middle of the street ready to turn into the apartments right behind us. As I glanced closer at the truck, I noticed exactly who I had seen. It was him. I can't even bare to say his name because that's what I used to call him. . . .

Grandpa. That name sounds so foreign to me now. I haven't said that in so long. It's kind of weird to think about actually.

. . . He glanced at us. What he used to call his "grand kids". We sat on the bench, my brother sat there trying not to fall asleep after a long day at school and I sat there staring at this man I used to know. As he turned the corner, he kept his eyes on the road and shot a quick glance at us. The last glance he would see of us. . .

I woke up and realized it was just a dream. Yet, all the aspects of the dream that made it so real was this is how my grandpa really was. He was gone. He would never be our same grandpa. The one who threw my brother into the kiddie pool in his backyard. The one who barbecued every Sunday and made enough to put on plates for the neighbors as well. The one who knew ever single person in the city. The one who helped us get through things day by day, because we didn't have the money usually. The one who I could talk to about anything. Who he was, was gone. Not dead, but close enough. Close enough to where the memory of him stays stuck at the very back of my head, but not far enough for me to forget.

. . . And I Thought, "I've Got The Cure For You"

Drink after drink. It's just a regular Friday night at the usual place. Looking around, I see the smoke-filled room darkening the white painted apartment. There's just a couple of us sitting there, reminiscing and talking about former times in our brand new friendship. I barely know these people as does he, but it's so comforting. I tell him, "I'm going outside for cigarette." He gets up and goes outside with me. I walk, watching my steps considering I'm not fully there, and sit on the stairs a few feet from her apartment door. He stands in front of me and we each light our cigarette. We start talking, my phone rings, it's another obsessed boy who doesn't seem to get the hint. He leans over me and talks into the phone, as any intoxicated person would just for the laugh. After the call ends, "he" laughs and so do I and we start talking.
It's not just any talk though, it's the beginning of "how did it get like this?"
I sit and listen inhaling the menthol as it gives me a relaxing head change.
He starts explaining something he has been keeping in himself for so long. Something that has been bothering him for months now. I can't even begin to explain how I felt when this was said. I felt overwhelmed, curious, and a little scared to know what it was. I know this this boy inside and out. He's my other half, we're inseparable. I knew it wasn't a good thing because he seemed a little shaky about telling me and even a little hesitant. I didn't like the hesitation because "he" knows he can confide anything in me.
I won't get into what was said.
But isn't as bad as I thought it would be, but it was this feeling of guilt.
My heart sank and as usual I gave him my advice. I explained as we all say to each other, "It's not your fault."
But in real time, it really wasn't his fault. I hugged him and reassured him.

. . . .interrupted, our new found friends came outside and wanted us to come drink some more. . . .

We looked into each other; it felt as though time paused. I looked at him from his wavy brown hair to his freezing cold hands and down to his well-earned shoes that I knew he loved. I smiled at him and he looked back. I turned to go inside and he followed. I sat at the chair I usually sat at and he went towards the kitchen part of the apartment getting the Vodka. He looked at me smiling and turned away towards our friends making jokes as he usually does. I felt at that moment, satisfied and pleased with how things went.
Our friends as I recall went towards the living room and so I sat at the kitchen table and he was leaned up against the kitchen wall near the refrigerator and messing with the radio station. He looked at me and motioned me to go over there, so I got up and walked over there with my beer in hand.
He hugged me and said, "You don't know how relieved I feel right now. It's like. . . . "
I nodded because I knew exactly what he meant. I knew him, but he hasn't really grasped that.
He smiled at me and from then the night went on an expected turn.
Unexpected, but nothing I would regret.

Two days later, he calls me and what I would never think has happened.
Personal matters, but very personal it hit me. I remember that night, he explained to me:
"When I see you fight with your parents, I think in my head that you shouldn't".
And I was standing wondering why exactly I shouldn't be arguing or standing up to them.
He told me, "Their only there for so long and I don't have that. You have to make the most of the time you have with them. If I couldn't at least you could."
I remembered exactly why he said this. He didn't have his parents around him, like I did. He was right.

. . . . "I'm so sorry. How are you taking it?". . . .
Him: "I'm taking it alright I guess, I just can't believe it."
. . . "I can't even begin to imagine, I don't know what to say, but all I can say is you know I'm here to talk or vent about it" . . . .
Him: "Yeah. I know."

Tears rolled down my eyes. I couldn't show that though. I wiped my eyes as he explained how he felt and how his family was taking this. He explained to me each and every emotion that could be felt in this situation.
. . . interruption once again. . .
Call back. I would call back of course. I held the phone in my hand as his number was there dialed already waiting for me to press the call button. I stopped myself, went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. What could I say to someone who was in that situation?
For once in my life, I had nothing to say. I didn't know what to say.
And I wish I did.

I wish I could fix this. I wish I could have the cure, but there is no cure. All you can do is just be there for that person. They'll appreciate that because that's exactly what they need. I know that's what he needs.

Mind and Heart. . . You Never Know Where You'll Be Led

I can't seem to wrap myself around the kinds of people I run into and decide to let come into my life.
There's some people I can't stand. There's just one person I can argue and hurt (vice versa) and we still remain the best of friends. There's others who come and go. There's some who are always there, even when I don't show that I care. Maybe I need to take a step back and reevaluate everything I'm doing.
I find myself caring about others who don't really care about me and brings me to the conclusion that I feel pathetic for sinking myself down for someone else.
I've gone through about 3 of those this past month and I lost plenty more where that came from.
I know everyone always says that the close people in their lives will be there forever, well that's not necessarily true unless they want to be there forever.
But when it comes down to it, you have to let go, whether it's a significant other, close friend, or relative.
You just have to let go.

It's hard at first. I'll admit it and I don't like admitting anything of that sort. You can be so close to someone for so long. Sharing laughs and hard times and thinking that they'll be there for you even when you fall down or when your both going through something so tragic. Then when that time comes that they start to fade, you wonder where their going.
Then you find out it's away from you. Far away from you.

You wonder what you did wrong this time. You try to fix it and it gets blown right back into your face. Then your sinking under deeper and deeper and wonder if it's ever going to change.
Then it doesn't and you realize it won't ever.
I guess life is full of those mishaps and missed targets. You think you have it and you really don't.
I thought I really had it and I really didn't.
My heart was in the wrong place. My mind had already told me to leave.