in·sen·si·tive /inˈsensitiv/ adjective: showing or feeling no concern for others' feelings synonyms:heartless, unfeeling, inconsiderate, thoughtless, thick-skinned;
There will be some days I just don’t know how to feel with everything that’s happened in my life. Today is no different. Today has been extremely weird. I feel like on days like this, the Universe understands and to show its empathy, by bringing rain to show me I’m not alone in the pain I’ve been feeling. Yesterday I was told some news that devastated me. It shook me to the very core and though I began crying during our conversation, afterwards I fell into a stagnant daze. I still sort of am. I’ve only eaten one meal in the last 48 hours and though I feel sick and know I’m teasing my blood sugars, I just don’t feel like eating. I haven’t even cried since. In these last few months I knew something was coming though. I’ve been having terrible nightmares of a certain friend and up till his grand arrival, they have been happening every night. The nightmares have terrified me, rattled my psyche and made me feel absolutely worthless. When we spoke, he suddenly became this aloof stranger. He fed me insensitive lines but between it all, showed a depleting part of who I know he is and for a split second, became the same person I came to adore and admire all those years ago. Nonetheless, like Jekyll and Hyde, he changed face and continued our conversation in an insensitive manner, ending it on a heartbreaking note. I am forever changed. I am lost. I am hurt. I am broken.
I don’t know how some people can push away someone they once acknowledged as a friend, someone they cared for, and someone they connected with because in their realm, it’s for the proverbial ‘greater good’—rather, a “sacrifice”? I have been trying to make sense of things in these last 48 hours without any ounce of consideration from him. At least the nightmares stopped (perfect timing, right?) but I couldn’t sleep last night and ended up driving around my sleepy little town. I ended up sitting in my car, listening to Talking Heads and watching the trains go by at the junction. How did I get here?
When I was younger, I listened to a lot of Jann Arden. I loved her—I still do (she was such an amazing guest co-host on The Social earlier this month!). But as a kid, I use to listen to her music and think how tough it must have been for her to experience such heartbreak and still so eloquently write about it—and ultimately, move on. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that. I’ve been trying to find “me” and that middle ground, but am coming up short. And in the words of B, I am trying my hardest—my ever-so hardest—to “find something true to [me] and chase it.” I wish I could be that great of writer though. There have been so many great writers who were able to pour themselves into their work. Jane Austen did it up until she died, why can’t I? Writing is all I know how to do, but sometimes I feel like this pain and everything I am enduring is going to create a giant scar on my being and my style of writing. It hurts right now to not know where I am and could go. Through his insensitivity, he didn’t even offer me closure after five years of friendship which confused me after everything he told me about us. I am left without any peace of mind, but baffled at how someone could be that way. I wish I could know.
Oh, you probably won’t remember me
It’s probably ancient history
I’m one of the chosen few
Who went ahead and fell for you
I’m out of vogue, I’m out of touch
I fell too fast I feel too much
I thought that you might have some advice to give,
How to be insensitive…