Released.

Someone stopped by last night to say goodbye to me. I allowed it to happen and ignored some really good advice in allowing it.

But, yes, it was good. Real good. We talked for hours catching up. She said she envied me, how I can stay strong and to myself in the face of temptation the world over. (um... yeah... strong... ok...) She was referring to HER life, drugs, lack of responsibility, ruining people's lives for fun, being a traitor, etc. I was a little cryptic on my end of catching up. I didn't want to say too much. But she was happy just yammering on and on. She sure likes the sound of her own voice.

Thing is, because I spent so much time distancing myself emotionally from her, I realized I didn't miss her. Sure, it was nice to reconnect with the past, but only on a superficial level. Nothing too deep. It didn't bother me that I didn't have her heart. It didn't bother me what she did. It really didn't. It is what it is. Seeing her vulnerable, being vulnerable around her (sick and on my back), just seemed to remind me that drama is just that: DRAMA. People take some things too seriously. I took her too seriously as a friend then and felt betrayed when I tested it. I took the junk we did together too seriously and that left me emotionally hurt. She wasn't my best friend back then because she was the penultimate friend... she was just the only friend willing to make time for me. The only one who ever fought for me.

I went to high school at SAS. I transferred over, like all the other students, in 11th grade. That high school, at the time (probably still that way) could not grant high school diplomas. They transferred you back to your home school right before the end and you graduate from there. I felt no connection to Sunset. At all. She was the only holdover from that school. And middle school. And she fought the administrators that weren't going to let me go to grad night, those that weren't going to let me walk for graduation. I really didn't care. I would have preferred a mock ceremony with SAS: they were my home at that time. But she, Jenny (about time I spit out her name so you know who I'm talking about), made me care. She fought tooth and nail. And, yeah, that's a big thing... but I took that big thing and took it far too seriously than what it probably just was: an excuse to have another guy at her partying.

As we sat there, the strangerhood reduced. She touched my arms. We sat closer together. She layed back with me and stared at the ceiling and pretended they were stars. I told her not to because I'm sick, but she said it was worth it. I didn't take that more seriously than what it was. Face value, no more. And if there were any plots or plans in her head, I'd figure it out. I was always smarter than her. I figured she wanted some.

She might not have deserved it, but I did. I'm back to "can't really be picky" because, well, I can't. My latest infection (which turns out was misdiagnosed as mono... I said "ouch" when the doc squeezed where my spleen would be because I wasn't expecting such a hard prod) was a bit of a distraction from my overriding medical conundrum. I don't have a whole lot of time left. I don't exactly have my pick.

She didn't take it... I gave it to her. She did a lot of the work, naturally, since I'm sick and low on energy. And try she did. And I'm glad I did. I felt a big release.... like it was a physical manifestation of the emotional release of that baggage.

There's a bunch of ways physical release can result in emotional release. I'm not into cutting. I don't like having my hair cut, let alone doing it myself. Backpacking across Europe takes too much time. So, all things considered...