I was on the phone with my roommate/best friend/occasional partner in crime this evening, venting about what every other 21 year old girl would vent about - a boy. You've all been there, you all know what I'm talking about. We finished discussing his character flaws and exchanging the latest terrible thing he'd said or done and hung up. A few minutes later she txted me saying something along the lines of "you know, maybe we should just ignore the people that hurt us. revolutionary, I know."
But it really is.
Somewhere between the silly facebook messages and late nights driving in his car, all the "bad stuff" just falls away. I forget when it hurts because most of the time it doesn't. Because somehow feeling like somebody cares, like you're trusted and important is better than knowing that you're just like everybody else. It's something that we as humans crave, the thrill and rush of being somebody. So we keep picking up the phone, keep laughing at the jokes that aren't really funny, keep waiting around to finally be the exception. But it's a vicious cycle that leaves us sulking on the floor of our bedroom or blogging on a Wednesday night. And tomorrow I'll wake up and forget about feeling hurt or angry or tired and jump right back in. Head first.
And so will you.