Some things I have stored up

I have recently went thru a time when I hadn’t come to terms with the fact that I was (am)miserable with a lot in my life. A time when I hadn’t done anything about it but lash out at those around me. I had put myself in a position where I’ve hurt a few people dear to me. Some have voiced their dislike, some have pretended not to be upset – though it’s quite obvious they are, and some have just walked away. I haven’t figured out how I feel about that. Maybe I deserve to lose some I thought were friends. Then I think: well, what kind of friends are they really if they can just throw their hands up and walk away? I’m okay with their decisions because I’ve had enough bad friends in my life; someone who can just walk away like that is free to go. But then in the next breathe: I don’t want them to go. I don’t do well with people thinking ill of me. I’d hate to think that in a moment of weakness I pushed away all those people I considered friends.

No matter my personal flaws, I am a very passionate friend. I put my whole self into a relationship but – I’m naive to expect the same back. No matter how many times I remind myself to try and be a little more guarded, I fail. I am fiercely loyal to those I feel comfortable with and have been shown little loyalty in return.

I sometimes misconstrue politeness and friendliness to mean more than they do. I believe people to be genuine more often than not. I am time and again faulted for giving others the benefit of the doubt too often. I have been hurt many, many times and still haven’t learned a lesson.

Then I am still dealing with my hurt of losing some memories. The things I choose to keep are a reflection of what happens to me. Whether it is a picture, card, letter, hospital bracelets, or a piece of my girls hair - they all are memories and reflections. A lifetime is a long time and one cannot be expected to commit it all solely to memory. It’s not that I’m longing for that time, or the fact that I miss it, but the memory of it is what’s important to me and I fear that in ten, or twenty years time I won’t remember anymore as bits and pieces may have already been lost.