Fighting With Friends

I live across the country from about 99% of my friends. Yes, I’ve made some new friends here, and they matter, too, but my best friends are at a minimum of 2,000 miles away from me. Also, I am not a phone talker, never have been. These two things make for some not so pleasant moments.

I am a sensitive person and pride myself on putting everyone else on the planet before myself. If you ask any of my friends, you will know I would rather stand naked in front of the nation than ask for help or admit that I need to talk through some things.
Because I’m selfish in a different kind of way, though, this means I expect the exact same thing from my friends. This isn’t fair to them. They don’t and shouldn’t spend 24 hours a day worried about my well being. I’m a grown woman. But I wish sometimes they’d read between the lines. Realize that if I say I’m stressed, it’s so beyond the point of me dealing with things well. It means I need help. It means I need someone to say, “I get it. You can be stressed. You don’t have to have control of everything right now.”

This isn’t a logical thing to think, I realize. And it definitely isn’t plausible when all of our conversations are over text so he or she has no actual idea how I mean something.

It’s one of those days when I’m feeling like a baby and I need my best friend but he’s not getting that so I’m angry.

Sue me.


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