Betrayal and Other Sad Stories

I actually deleted a blog post. I'm sure this is against the rules of the truly hard-core blogger, but I had to remove it because I just couldn't own it. According to one friend (who was kind enough to phone me rather than leave a comment for the world to see) it was "whiny, self-centered, self-induglent, and untrue." Not that untrue has ever affected what I put up for the world (or self-indulgent either, for that matter.)

But no, I had to delete it because I've given it all a bit of thought. One of the reasons I'm very late to the blogging game is because it took me a long time to figure out how NOT to treat a blog like a journal to avoid just dumping whatever emotional weirdness was going on in my life into one. The other day I did that 'cause I wasn't done bleeding yet.

I bleed. It's one of my favorite lines from a Pixies song, and really, when I'm hurt, I *do* bleed like a stuck pig. I don't run and hide by myself and cry - maybe for a little while, but eventually, I pick up the phone and start bleeding to whomever willl listen until it's over.

The deal was this - like many of you, I grew up surrounded by the kids of other "broken" families and we built our own weird little units - posses, crews, gangs, cliques, whatever. In fact, I have several layers of these scenes going on in my life, but my O.S. (original scene) recently celebrated the wedding of one of its members - and for reasons that still aren't clear to me, I wasn't invited to the wedding - and it absolutely crushed me for a couple of days.

I spent a long time talking about it with some other pals, but one said something that I liked a lot, to the effect of "Betrayal is only possible where we feel attachment," which basically puts the onus on me for my pain (which I can accept) but leaves me with a whole other question:

"How do we build families around detachment?"

Well, I'd bet we don't. I think probably once we realize that someone else's actions can really trigger painful emotional responses in ourselves, we probably start detaching right away - I know I have. And once detached, well - it's sorta hard to imagine family with that person, no matter what the history or other attractions.

If you'd told me a week ago that this kind of thing would've cut me to my core, I wouldn't have believed you. I found out Wednesday night and literally spent most of Thursday blubbering like a baby about it. It was absurd, and I knew it, but I just couldn't stop. It was as if everything I believed in had been pulled out from under me. It was as if all the stupid unspoken community crap that we bandy about around here was all a complete lie, and that I was just fucking kidding myself if I thought that I had special friends and lived in a special world with tight ideas about community and love and friendship and all that shit.

In other words, I was becoming DIS-illusioned about my illusions. I was coming to terms with the fact that someone I thought was a "friend forever" from the days of the Teenage Musketeers (you know exactly what I'm talking about) well, just, wasn't.

I don't care that you couldn't invite me to your wedding - but the fact that I had to hear about on the street from someone else just shows me what a crass motherfucker you can be. Did you honestly think that I wouldn't hear about it? Did you honestly think it wouldn't upset me?

HOW FUCKING HARD IS IT TO PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE AND CALL SOMEONE?

I wish you'd called. I would've called you. But now...I probably won't. Detachment, y'see.