two posts in one day... this outta be good.

To find myself weighing out the integrity of friends more than once in a span of a month or two, decidedly explains that things are definitely in the red. Not good, when you consider looking up the word friendship in your trusty Webster's Dictionary and it doesn't compare with the feelings you've succumbed to, or, in this case, what I've succumbed to. A contrast, if you will.

Basically, I'm pulling a western movie line out of my ass and declaring that I'm calling you out. With the strict exception of very few, I get the distinct feeling that a lot of what I say or feel at any particular moment means dick to a lot of you. Suffice to say, including people that I live with. You can consider it a state of overreaction if you want, but hey. I haven't had a sense of reassurance from the lot of you for some time now. Shitty.

I was willing to forgive and forget about how shitty my actual birthday (with the exception of some choice phone calls and the people that did actually show to dinner and bowling... not much, let me tell you... and yes, I will keep harping about this), but that doesn't mean that I'm still not hurt by it. It was embarrassing to say the least, especially when I never thought that such a thing could happen to me. You see that shit in the movies or on TV shows, not usually in real life.

Even as I read what I've just written once over, it sounds ludicrous (spelled right? meh.) to me, but I cannot help how I've been feeling for the past few months now. I've been dealing with a lot of self-doubt, this category in particular in life's bumpy roads, and being hermitted (I don't know if the word "hermit" could be used in that tense, but it is now. This is the internet after all.) in a cluttered house most of the days and nights (when I'm not working, of course.) doesn't really help the sitch, either.

By this time, you're asking, "well why in the hell don't you ever call me to hang out?" The answer to that possible inquiry is simply either I do not have your phone number, or I'm hesitant when I have come to believe my own thoughts, which have the ability to convince me that I'm, as the infamous Dane Cook words it, "the friend nobody likes". Why invite yourself when you feel like The Douchebag? It's embarrassing in the long run when or if it actually turns out to be true, is it not?

And let me play this card now, I'm not out to seek pity, I never have. I'm simply expressing. I can do that. It's cool, don't fret.

So there you have it. My insecurity skeleton is out of the fucked up closet. If you choose to call me out on this, dubbing this as a wrong-doing, do so in a decent manner by emailing, calling, or better yet, speaking to me in person about it. I've embarrassed myself enough.

Thanks for reading, and hopefully understanding where I'm coming from.