When it’s possible for me to become a serial killer…

This is sorta sad. About 2:30am. Just chillin’ in my room, watching my wife sleep. The song I Can’t Make You Love Me (Nina’s version) is playing in my laptop. Song made me search for Joy’s blog post for the lyrics. Scrolled down and re-read the replies…

Just thinking about stuff. Probably just one of those times. Last night I was at work, the whole night. Drove home around 9 this morning. Slept the whole day almost. Now I don’t feel like sleeping. I’m still tired, but I don’t feel like sleeping. This sort of exhaustion brings with it a unique kind of melancholy. Couldn’t avoid thinking about misunderstandings. Mixed signals. Lack of communication. Silent hurts. Unspoken truths. Spoken lies. Friends breaking up, and not knowing why. Wracking my brain trying to figure out how a pleasant situation would suddenly turn south for no apparent reason. Why suddenly a person close to you would suddenly drift away. Not just suddenly, but swiftly, drastically, and almost violently. Misunderstandings? Lack of communication? Mixed signals? Misinterpreted behavior?  Unspoken hellos? Pressing ‘Delete’ just for the heck of it?

I’d choose belligerence anytime. At least with belligerent people, there is no puzzle. You know exactly why an asshole is being an asshole and why he is acting like an asshole. Sometimes I prefer no-brainers when I don’t have a great deal of time to figure things out. Just deal with it and go on with your life.

But friends communicate. It’s the same as saying that birds fly or the sun shines. When they stop doing that for no apparent reason… well… it’s mind-boggling. It doesn’t make sense.

Or it’s dead.

Kill the misunderstandings, or kill the friendship. It’s not a tough choice. It’s a no-brainer. And yet it seems we still can’t make the right choice.

Sad…

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quistian

An incorrigible Gen-X cynic who writes too damn much