I know. I know that you don't necessarily want me to say what I've said, but I'm not going to deny my feelings.
Well, shit. I guess you're right. Can't very well bring anything home if you're going to observe and hit me hard like that. I don't know. Just self-conscious I guess? Starts getting weird when you get my age. You start thinking about how you were vibrant and young not all that long ago. You're thirty, thirty-five, forty in the blink of an eye and what do you have to show for it, you know?
Ha ha, I mean, it's a skill. :) Can't say it's useful in everyday life, though.
Don't be. You were being honest with your feelings which I want to believe I am, but so rarely end up being. You're a lot braver than I am. I'd rather just let myself be silenced than be honest. It's wrong, especially since I value honesty so much, you know? I takes a lot to be frank.
So don't be pissed. And you aren't a goddamn idiot. If I had any idea how to be normal you think I wouldn't take what you offered me? I'm fortunate that you would. I don't deserve it. Don't ever think that way about yourself about your feelings, regardless of how it pans out. You're a lot braver than I could ever be and more daring. More deserving. I'm too worried and stressed and scared or feeling anything for anyone.
Don't pull that shit, Guzma. Maybe it isn't fair, but what is? Doesn't mean that it doesn't matter and I don't give a shit. Doesn't mean that I don't care. I'll noogie you until you call me uncle if you think it matters. Sometimes that deep shit, that stuff that fucks you up is just that. You can't expect it to be easy. Doesn't mean you have to tell me about it or that it'll change anything, but you know I'll be there for you. I know it isn't saying much especially now, but I'm not going anywhere and if you ever want to vent, I'll be here to listen. You've heard me out. You get the bullshit. People are fucked up and I don't always know how to respond but if you think it'll mean nothing or I won't listen, you're wrong. Everything you have to say matters.
I'm sorry I can't give you what you want. But nothing I do give you is pity or sympathy. We're on the same level, you and me. It isn't a mess. You're human. And in my own way, I'm flattered. I don't really deserve it.
But you matter, still. I can count he people that do on one hand. I turned thirty-six at the end of last year. Including people back home and here, it's just one hand. I don't mind what I have to show for my work and care, because everyone is great. Just don't go thinking you're some face in a crowd. You aren't. I'm getting older and I can feel the aches and I can see my aging and know that I'm letting fewer people in. But you. You're special. And worth it.
dw just ruining everyhing good and pure
Well, shit. I guess you're right. Can't very well bring anything home if you're going to observe and hit me hard like that.
I don't know. Just self-conscious I guess?
Starts getting weird when you get my age. You start thinking about how you were vibrant and young not all that long ago. You're thirty, thirty-five, forty in the blink of an eye and what do you have to show for it, you know?
Ha ha, I mean, it's a skill. :) Can't say it's useful in everyday life, though.
Don't be.
You were being honest with your feelings which I want to believe I am, but so rarely end up being. You're a lot braver than I am. I'd rather just let myself be silenced than be honest. It's wrong, especially since I value honesty so much, you know? I takes a lot to be frank.
So don't be pissed. And you aren't a goddamn idiot. If I had any idea how to be normal you think I wouldn't take what you offered me? I'm fortunate that you would. I don't deserve it.
Don't ever think that way about yourself about your feelings, regardless of how it pans out. You're a lot braver than I could ever be and more daring. More deserving. I'm too worried and stressed and scared or feeling anything for anyone.
Don't pull that shit, Guzma. Maybe it isn't fair, but what is? Doesn't mean that it doesn't matter and I don't give a shit. Doesn't mean that I don't care.
I'll noogie you until you call me uncle if you think it matters. Sometimes that deep shit, that stuff that fucks you up is just that. You can't expect it to be easy. Doesn't mean you have to tell me about it or that it'll change anything, but you know I'll be there for you. I know it isn't saying much especially now, but I'm not going anywhere and if you ever want to vent, I'll be here to listen. You've heard me out. You get the bullshit. People are fucked up and I don't always know how to respond but if you think it'll mean nothing or I won't listen, you're wrong. Everything you have to say matters.
I'm sorry I can't give you what you want. But nothing I do give you is pity or sympathy. We're on the same level, you and me. It isn't a mess. You're human. And in my own way, I'm flattered. I don't really deserve it.
But you matter, still. I can count he people that do on one hand. I turned thirty-six at the end of last year. Including people back home and here, it's just one hand. I don't mind what I have to show for my work and care, because everyone is great. Just don't go thinking you're some face in a crowd. You aren't. I'm getting older and I can feel the aches and I can see my aging and know that I'm letting fewer people in. But you. You're special. And worth it.