respect ·
27 July 04

Why do I care? Was I jealous? Did it matter who she was with? It was a strange, strange dream, and one that made me feel very akward when I woke up. Why did I think of her after all this time?

We sat in a pub, all of us, my friends, and her. She was happy, smiling, enjoying the time she was spending with us before she would go away. I couldn’t stay long, because I had to go myself, but I felt negative. I felt almost annoyed that she was having a good time, without, but with my friends. May be I didn’t like her really, may be I hated her. Or may be I loved her?

I can’t really explain. There is nothing between us in real life. Our feelings are purely nothing, I mean we’re close but we don’t care I guess. It doesn’t really narrow my relationship with anyone, because it’s the same with everyone. That is my connection with people, having no feelings for them, and vice versa.

They were laughing with her, but they didn’t respect her, and I wanted to make that clear. I wanted to know if she cared about herself.

Ok, I am human, I do care, but it was the way it all happened. My friends were all happy, she is also my friend, so she was happy. We’ve gone through a few things together, I guess, for whatever they count. I think I am protective of her. I do love her, but I want to watch over her, to see she comes to harm, so that she’ll be ok, not be hurt and so on.

There is some wrestling of my mind as to why I am trying to justify what I feel for her. I think because what I say afterwards would perhaps be seen as unfair on both my friends and her. But I can’t say whether it is more indicative of what I think of my friends, or what I think of her. I fail to grasp the image of her face anymore, as it defragments, shatters and fades, leaving only a shadowy remnant of her former self.

So, perhaps I will continue, without being reserved, and explain what was in my dream, and what was on my mind. When it comes to people I care about, about people I love, I am very protective and sincere about not hearing or having a bad word said about them. It will piss me off, unless it’s said in humour. And then I often retort with a comment of my own, as when it comes to slagging matches, I do pretty well. Particularly when drunk or high.

She sat in the pub, with everyone including me. We were drinking, enjoying ourselves for the most part. She looked over occasionally, and I don’t know why. It was either a look of, “He’ll find out and I wonder what will happen then.” or “I have something to say”. Something along those lines in any case.
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It doesn’t really matter I guess what I felt. All of it is bullshit isn’t it? It was a dream after all. And what do dreams matter? They tell you nothing, they stop you from going insane by helping you work through your everyday thoughts and emotions in the form of dreams.

But I can’t say whether it is more indicative of what I think of my friends, or what I think of her. I fail to grasp the image of her face anymore, as it defragments, shatters and fades, leaving only a shadowy remnant of her former self.

What was I trying to work out? Perhaps it was about loyalty, or trust? My inability to trust that my friends perhaps know what’s good for them more than I do. That I should stop interfering in their lives. I shouldn’t care about them, or watch over them, or be concerned about the repercussions of their actions.

In the dream, the crux was that she, whoever she is now, had slept with all my friends. Each of my friends would say she was “really good” or “she was awful” as a fuck. She did this, she did that, she loved this, and they made her scream doing this. Whatever. It was stuff that didn’t interest me. And as it was a friend, who they hadn’t met before, but I considered her equal in respect to any of them, even though I had known them for as long or longer, it annoyed me that bestowed upon her that sort of respect. I felt my loyalties and friendship stretch, as I tried to ensure that they weren’t offended by the fact that I considered them to bastards for talking about her the way they did, and for her to not think that I didn’t care that they were saying what they were saying about her.

Where does friendship end and interference begin? She looked at me? No, I was looking at her. I wanted to talk to her, to say that the way she was behaving, by sleeping with each one of them at different times was not out of order, but detrimental to her respect amongst them. They were laughing with her, but they didn’t respect her, and I wanted to make that clear. I wanted to know if she cared about herself. I wanted to know whether my friends cared about friendship, or was it only exclusive to a certain circle of people?

I realise it wasn’t jealousy, it wasn’t shame, it was concern. But, I understand now, I shouldn’t care. I won’t care. I won’t give a flying fuck what my friends do, because they’re fucking adults, they have brains, they have intelligence and they’re mature enough to make their own decisions, and to live their lives as they see fit. At best I will interfere if asked to. I will not stop caring, but I will stop showing that I care, because, amusingly, I don’t care anymore.

It’s true, I feel physically and emotionally drained. I don’t know why I care so much about respect. Does it really matter that my friends don’t really accept each other? It sometimes borders on the line of tolerance, rather than respect or friendship. It’s not a matter of trust, it’s a matter of treating everyone equally. About being impartial and not denigrating one person because of their sex, or their behaviour over that of their own high values, or expectation and understanding of who deserves respect and for what.

Their lives. Their worlds. I am but a passenger for now, I am only a visitor. The ticket will expire, their world will continue, and nothing will change. So, where am I at? It could be I’m at a point where I stop calling everyone my friend, and start realising that wallowing in self pity, stressing over their lives is no concern of mine. I wouldn’t like it if someone kept telling me what to do, or how to live my life, so how do I justify my own interference?

I think, for me at least, it’s easier to care for other people than to care for myself. It’s all a fucking waste of time anyway. All of it.