Who am I?

I'm Jean Valjean! No, not really. Bahaha--- apparently I've been listening to that soundtrack a bit too much. Ahem. Start over.

Who am I? What type of person am I? What type of friend am I? I've been analyzing these questions a lot lately.

Sometimes I think too much about the relationships in my life, and start seeing myself in a very negative light. The reasoning being simply that so many things have gone sour with so many different people, that it must be my fault. Is it though?

I was talking with a friend today, and I was insinuating that perhaps I was just a bad, non-enjoyable pitiful person, and no one had the guts to tell me so. I compared it to those unfortunate contestants on American Idol who waltz in thinking they're outstanding, when really their friends and family have been lying to them forever to spare their feelings. She wholeheartedly laughed at my scenario, assuring me that I was one of her favorite people, and she wasn't just saying that. What is it then? What?

Well, the answer is awful, but simple. Let's say you're my friend, and you have a situation in which you have to make a decision. Whatever decision you make, the outcome will cause one of your friends to get hurt. 99.9% of the time, these friends choose me to be the one who will get hurt. Why? Well, because I know how to get hurt. I know how to be hurt. I know how to forgive hurt, and I know how to get over it. Bigger things have happened in my lifetime, so it's fair to say that the choice of wounding me would seem far less catastrophic. The hurt you might inflict on the other friend would be something that would rank as something life altering to them, whereas with me... eh... I've been through SO much worse. Go for it. Wound me.

Is that how your mind works? It's the only way I can rationalize it. There is no other way.

I've been a phenomenal friend. That's why they cry to me. That's why they trust me. That's why when they need to talk to someone, they know I will be here. I will always be here. As much as I would like to think otherwise, I doubt that would ever change. I could never ever abandon someone who needed me. That's part of the problem. That's the biggest reason why I'm still here. Stuck. Trapped. Standing still.

I'm the friend who will spend money I don't have on gas for my broken vehicle to drive six hours just to help you clean your house.

I'm the friend who will fight your battles and defend you to the end when someone hurts you.

I'm the friend who will do everything I can to take your hurt away, hold you when you cry, crack jokes until you crack a smile, and talk you through all of your doubts and fears.

I am the friend whom you have trusted with your fantasies.

I am the friend who counts out saved quarters at Wal-Mart to buy yarn to make you a one of a kind gift. 

I am the friend who will listen to your constant complaints about your Mom, even though all I can think about is how fortunate you are to have a Mom to complain about.

I am the friend who is honored that you have chosen me to be your friend. I am honored and grateful, and always here.

I am the friend who as she writes this, is struggling. I am struggling and I am sad. I want to be able to trust like you trust, but I can't. It isn't there. I want to forget all of it, but you remember one thing, and you remember everything. Remember?

"How do you leave the past behind when it keeps finding ways to get to your heart? It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out til you're torn apart."

I tried to let you go once. You cried and begged me not to. You said you didn't want to be let go. I was too important. You loved me too much. It could have been over way back then. It could have ended and you wouldn't have had to feel the doubt and guilt that drove you into silence. It wasn't necessary.

I know I'm holding onto somedays, what-ifs and maybes. What are you holding onto? Why did you hold onto me? What am I giving you that you can't live without? Why am I important? Why do you love me...and why is it different? You love me different.

I'm a light in this world. Jesus told me so. I have spoken words He gave me, and I have changed lives. If that's why you hold on, you know those words were not mine. You don't need me to have Jesus. I got to help Him save you, that's all. He did all the work, I was there. Is that why I'm here? I don't need to be here anymore.

It's so unfair when your mind just dumps out memory after memory after memory. It's a waterfall. How do you stop a waterfall? You don't. It's being endlessly supplied and doesn't look like it's slowing down anytime soon.  I can see and feel every moment, I can smell the rooms and feel the walls. I can see the faces and every speckle on the floor tiles. I remember all of it. Every word, every glance, every whisper. I remember ALL of it. Everything. Not one isolated time, not one event. All of it. Good, bad, up, down-- my mind does not discriminate. Who knew it was all still there? Is it a blessing or a curse? Is this a ramble or an entry? Do I make sense or am I one step closer to decorating the walls of my cell with my own feces? Lovely visual, isn't it? Haha.

It's not up to me. Jesus, just take it all, and take it away. Erase my memory. I wouldn't mind. It would be okay.

Tomorrow is another day.