Books before food (and any sort of comfortable life).
Recently, I’ve been unhappy. With life, family, friends. Being someone who is always thinking of others, it’s hard to accept the fact that they’re not always thinking of you. I didn’t want lectures about how “life gets in the way sometimes.” I didn’t want to hear about how I was “only thinking of myself.” When people are so used to your focus being all about them, I could see how a complaint could make them see it as you being “all about you.” But the truth is, I don’t need friends who accuse me of being selfish the one time that I’m completely honest about how I’m feeling. I feel as if I can’t tell anyone anything because of situations like this.
So, I deleted my Facebook. The one thing that helped me connect to those I cared about the most. I deleted it. Four-hundred and fourteen people who acted like they couldn’t care less if I existed. I’m not saying that’s the exact truth, but that’s how it felt. Four-hundred and fourteen people whose existence and daily lives had nothing to do with me.
Don’t get me wrong—I am sad that it finally came to being what I had to do. But I knew that it eventually would, and like I said, I’m okay with that. If they really want to contact me, they’ll find my email address. And I’ve posted dozens of times where they can find my blog. (But due to some problems—many listed in the first paragraph—I have shut off my phone until further notice.)
Only time will tell if everything goes back to the way it was or progresses into a better future. Honestly, I would prefer the latter to the former. I know my friends are really good people, and they mean well most of the time, but there’s a point in your life when you have to move on. I’ve been feeling that “pull” lately, and moving backwards night now isn’t an option for me. I need new experiences and new people. And I know I’m not going to get that where I’m at.
(Pictures are from a post from The Better Man Project)