Caterwauling

Ugh.

I wish I had friends. Then when I have offers coming in like I do right now, I just want to scream.

I already have phone anxiety. People need to text, I always think, instead of call.

But then people text and then I have that same punch-in-the-gut feeling.

I waffle between “I prefer people I only see every now and again” and “If you’re not going to be around for much longer, why invest in you?”

I think of all the people who walked out of my life without a word or explanation and I think of some others, why can’t people let me do that too? Why do you want something from me I’ve never gotten?

Then I think well maybe do I tell the world to go away so I don’t have to get a raging case of anxiety every time the phone rings or chimes?

But what if that means I would never hear from the people I might actually LOVE to hear from someday?

This doesn’t refer to the messages in Faceypages messenger. Honest to God I hate clicking on that app. I’m always glad when I do. But it just takes me a good long while to get there. So if I owe you a message, know I’ve responded happily in my head, at the very least.

The cat howled all night. 

All. Fucking. Night. 

Then I got up to find the person who owed me something, never sent it. So my sleepy self did the work. 

And then he sent the work I needed. When I was done. 

I can’t get into what an existential mess it has turned into. But it is three hours I won’t get back, all before 8 a.m.

At least I was awake for pothead upstairs to go through all his dresser drawers right above my bed. I swear this asshole can’t remember where he hides his stash from day to day. 

Of course my favorite time of day is when he goes on and off his balcony a thousand times, opening and closing the door with gusto each time. 

I’m tired. And tired. And did I mention tired? 

My mom is still friends with her high school besties. I’m the oldest of their kids — oddly, we were all only children, two girls and a boy. 

The girl liked the same designer purses I did. Then she moved to the same part of D.C. that I inhabited. Then after I said I wanted a certain kind of car, she wanted it too. 

Coincidence? Maybe. Her parents gave her everything. Every opportunity. They did without do she could have it all. 

She turned out lovely. Beautiful inside and out. And successful. And generous. 

She got engaged in London today. 

I’m trying to be happy. But I moved to D.C. to get the great job with all the great international travel perks and the great apartment and the great guy and the great life. 

But it went to her. All of it. 

I just don’t understand the universe right now.