So, lately I've been kind of mopey. As such, my friends have been trying to comfort me.
And I realized: I don't like being comforted. I don't like being told pretty things to make me forget how I feel. It stinks of lies. I'd rather take whatever pain comes to me and let it eventually pass.
I mean, I think I've always hated this stuff 'cause it sounds like such utter and total crap. When someone dies, or you lose someone important to you, or . . . well, whatever, people say, "Time heals all wounds."
Bullshit. I mean, ok, time does heal a lot of wounds. But who cares? The pain is now, and it's yet to heal.
Or they try to normalize it. Make as though it weren't so bad; as if what is lost wasn't that worthwhile in the first place.
Bullshit. Don't devalue what I want in my life; just because I didn't get it doesn't mean it wasn't worth desiring.
I love beautiful frivolities: the lies of a clever and meaningless conversation, or of a well-written novel. It's art, it's daily fictions, and they can be enjoyable.
I loathe actual falsehood. Once again, it's a devaluation, a degradation: when you understate something to make things seem better than they are you turn the original feeling into a sham. Don't. Don't make my world a more comfortable place by evening out all the highs and lows. I want them both.
You who know me well, you know when you ask my opinion I'm as honest as my perception will allow. I don't share my opinion when the bad outweighs the good, true, but I don't lie in the least detail.
So when life starts sucking, don't comfort me. Just be there--nothing more, nothing less. I don't want pretty lies. I just want my friends.
Another thing I discovered:
When I am in a mopey or unhappy mood, if I begin to think of or speak of my pride and arrogance I begin to feel better. D'you see that? My happiness isn't in thinking well of myself; it's in knowing I think well of myself. When I start to fall apart, knowing I have that self-confidence is the glue.