Friends In A Window

If anyone is reading this, I’d like to thank those few who have stuck by me and been supportive. I know I’ve been bitchy, cranky, whiney, and generally frustrating. You and I know who you are. Everyone else … well, all I can say is that I can understand the distance you’ve put between us. Since everything went all to hell for me, some of you have acted like you suddenly realized that I was radioactive. I won’t hold it against you. But I won’t forget it, either.
I’ve never once looked for a shoulder to cry upon. You have to give me that. But I’m keenly aware that as I’ve struggled here trying to keep my head above water, only one person has been friend enough to come forward and say “Swim, you dumb fuck. What’s your damage?” Everyone else said “I’ll be here if you need me,” and then became scarce. I’ve actually been surprised at who some of those people have been.
However it sounds, I’m not bitter that people have been giving me a wide berth. I’ve just been reminded of what I’ve known all my life. There’s no such thing as a support group when you’re taking fire. There are no close friends when you’re moving and could use some help. Insert whatever appropriate cliché you prefer. That’s all most people are good for. To be honest with you, I’ve rather enjoyed the relative peace of being radioactive. At least in this quiet, it’s pretty easy to see who my friends are. I guess I’ve just been surprised that it’s such a short list.
I’m beginning to feel somewhat like a street urchin staring through the window of a restaurant. Maybe it’s time to move on.

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