I have not slept. Been reflecting on recent emails & messages from old friends...as well as thinking back.... My friends have laughed at me for the way I walk. I was nicknamed the hover to guffors of laughter when Id enter a room. In reality its known as good deportment. But i smiled & laughed & did not correct anyone. When i was in a very stressful job & suffered stress headaches i became for a while, addicted to Solpadine. My friends laughed & I was called the solpadeine queen. No one congratulated me on beating the addiction. When i would drive my 18 yr old car to the other side of the country, i was scoffed at for still having such an old banger. When i frequently & passionately talked openely about suicide, i was called the queen of sheba. When i gave my former tenant an extra 2 weeks rent free time to move out, my voice & my goodwill gesture was not heard or deemed important. But it was. It meant the difference between me also being able to move or not. I cannot begin to describe the disastrous knock on effect my friends actions (non action) caused. Tired of friends humour. It doesnt make me laugh, it actually hurts, it always has done. I smiled to be nice. Not because I tbought it was ok. Did no one realise that? (Faith No More version on this occassion)
Posted on: Mon, 01 Dec 2014 07:10:33 +0000