Alone in a room full of people

What happens when you wake up one day and everything you were absolutely, positively sure about was, well...wrong. The people in your life weren't who you thought, the things you believed in became unbelievable and you even second guessed the things you saw and heard.

I miss the days of "personal anarchy", where I could get away with being brutal because I at least had the courage of my conviction. Now I feel old, broken and tired. Especially my heart.

Nothing is easy anymore, there are no simple tasks. Part of my life's biggest joy was helping others. But after a while when every phone call began with "I need...", well I just up and changed my phone number, I just snapped, and not in that dramatic "mascara running down my face, scotch in one hand, cigarette in the other wearing a vintage slip and marabou slippers" kind of way. I snapped in the most horrid way I could think of, lucid and completely sober and 100% sure of my actions.

I love who I love and that will never change but I cannot force people to want me instead of need me. My house is amazingly quiet now and it's going to be hard to get used to it. If I could just get my head to pipe down things would be smooth indeed.

Oh, and who knew that my Husband would turn out to be the Hero in all of this? I think it has to do with the uniform.

Ignoring me to my face

So my husband finally talked me into getting a "smart phone".  To preface, they literally give me a panic attack and it drives me utterly insane to watch a room full of "friends" ignore each other while they fondle their phones and obviously text their "more important friends", all while ignoring you politely within their cyber bubble. 

Why do we need this much media ALL the time?  I mean, really...what do you do with it?  I liked my old, cracked, purple cell.  It wasn't the size of a small freaking laptop, the camera lens was scratched, it could text.  I wasn't slick or fancy.

This fucking phone is a giant electronic leash, tugging at my cranium, I can feel it lurking in my purse, waiting for me to fall asleep, and then morphing into that little psycho phone from Transformers, only to eat it's way into my brain and turn me into a phone clutching, GPS implanted freak.

I want to take this little SOB back-NOW!  I thought I could learn to love it, but after tonight, being in that room full of friends and pulling that menacing little shit from my bag just so I would have something to do, I feel justified in it's return to the mother ship.

A man recently got run over by a subway car, the guy snapping away with his phone never even tried to pull him up...but you bet he sold that pic in a hot minute. 

I admittedly spend more than my fair share on the comp, I am an insomniac, I don't get out much, when I do visit, I enjoy actual interaction, fuck even Steven Hawking will talk to you.  When my husband is home he has that phone in his hand about 80% of the time, I have learned to talk to the back of his head.

I would rather have someone I care about tell me to fuck off and walk away then to ignore me to my face.