My Sodden Friends

I am a street cleaner. I walk along dirty streets and I find my sodden friend who is dirty and beaten to exhaustion, pain, and suffering. I kneel to my friend and hold his face endearingly so that he may trust me. I help him to his feet, I drape his arm around my shoulders, and I limp him along until he resembles a human being once again. The care and journey have been wonderful and full of so much seemingly true love.

It is then that I find I am no longer needed. My friend moves on, not turning to wave, not holding my hand, not even a hug. I wipe my tears quietly as I return to my thankless job. Am I a mother at heart? Do I ask for this job? Do I have "aid" written somewhere I cannot see? Is it my destiny that I carry this burden as Atlas would bear the heavens?

It is hard to explain what I mean to say. It is hard for me to explain what it is I feel I need to write. But I feel it. I feel as though I have particular friends that are so close to me that I love without doubt. Love of course varies. That is not the point. The fostering is the point. I foster my friends out of the rut they have fallen to. I foster my friends until they may stand on their own two feet. Just when it is that I see them happy and well, I have to watch them walk off, and away. They go, and I stand, not allowed to walk along, not wanted alongside. It only gets worse when my friends want to tell me about their new adventures, their new life, and their new friends. Do they know how it hurts? Do they care that it hurts? Do they not see my tears in plain sight? Or is it the tears that drive them further from me?

It is not fair to say, or seem, as though this applies to all friends, for that is not the case. I have my friends that return the favor; I have friends that know nothing of fostering; I have friends who are family. But I find that I fall in love with those who are my sodden friends. Perhaps it is the care I put into them. Perhaps it is our journey together that opens my heart to them.

Simply to say I fall in love is unfair. I have to let my heart out of its tightly closed box for this statement to apply. I love so many people, but yet only some have any real piece of my heart. It also seems that those who have their tiny fleshed rock that is part of me use it when they need a skipping stone, when they need a worry rock, when they need to impress another. It is rarely used to cradle and care for, I imagine it is rarely ever thought of as endearingly as the one who gave it to them!

It is unfair for my other friends who will probably never be given any ample piece of my heart. I will holdout, never loosening the grip on my heart box to the people who will care for it the best. Yet the sodden friends who will toss me aside, toss my heart aside, will earn the most from me. Why is this? Why do we always do this to ourselves? Why must we love those who hurt us?

And it is now, laying awake when I should be sleeping that I think about this. It is now that I want to cry for the street cleaner who will never change for the hopes that one day her sodden friend will choose to stay, wipe her tears for her. Even when there are hundreds around, it is a very lonely, thankless, and misunderstood job. It is a job I never want to live without even when it means continuing a life in pain.

If You Know, Please Tell Me

I never understand how people can just let their heart be out there open to the attack of the world. It's like slaughtering oneself. I can't do it. Perhaps I've learned that all will end in broken pieces so just don't put yourself there for the torment. If you know, please tell me. How is it that people have carefree hearts?

On another topic, this week is surreal to me (4 famous ppl dead, 1 dog put to sleep, 1 dog with bad hives, 1 concussion, 1 indescribable mood). So much has happened that I'm beginning to believe this week was really an entire month and I've just lost track of time. If you know, please tell me. Have I really lost time?

I am getting tix for three shows (Eng. Beat, TMBG, Rev. H. Heat). I think they'll be good shows to catch. Did you want to tag along? If you know, please tell me. Are you going?

I had a nightmare last night about a friend's former ex-fiance. I had dreamed that he was "stalking" me. By "stalking me", I mean that he was stalking my friend through me and my blog. He went through and favorite'd any post she was mentioned in and I found out he was a friend of mine through myspace through a fake name. It was creepy, I woke up sweating. If you know, please tell me. Are you really following me?

Word-
digitard: Anyone who has difficulty using technology for even the most basic of tasks, such as making a call on a cell phone.

I Hate Heartbreak!

Yep, I did it! I whacked my head hard enough to give myself a concussion. Little is to be said about it. I'm fine, I'm doing nothing about it as there is nothing to be done, and there is NO reason (let me emphasize this) NO REASON TO TELL MOM! Got it?

There's nothing more to say about it, so I'll move on to other subjects. My friends, The Trowbridges (Will, Christine, and Grace) are having their canine friend put to sleep today as poor Queens health is in a dire state. She has cancer that is making breathing very labored. The vet said it's really a matter of days until she goes on her on, and it will be painful. It's the right choice. It's sad. I hate heartbreak!

Well, that's really all I have today. Later maybe.

Word-
grow a pair: To gather one's courage and do what needs to be done. Sometimes used as a call to action. Often used as an insult.