Which, in my experience, nothing good has ever come from. So, this weekend, I was thinking about You. It was a pretty in-depth analysis of why I’m friends with him, why I would never date him (not that he’d ever want to), and just his personality in general.

Don’t lie. You’ve had days like this too. While walking the mower back and forth across the yard, though, I hit upon a profound thought that in the four years I’ve known him, had never worked it’s self across my brain.

If there’s a choice between what’s easy and what’s right, I’d place my money on You picking the easy way out, hands down.

I know this seems judgmental, but it’s not meant to be. I don’t think he’s a bad person because of it, and it’s not like I’m going to stop being his friend. It just helps in being able to predict what his possible actions will be when encountering future situations.

By looking at past actions, we can predict the future (and if I gambled, it’s where I’d put my money). For example, lets look at the current status of our friendship.

Situation: Relationship with the Cancer Victim, wherein one doesn’t have feelings for the Victim, and is verbally abused for everything from being friends with me, to wearing socks with holes. Said subject has been given ultimatums involving marriage (perhaps one of the few times when right will overcome easy), friendships, and the like. Breaking up would involve fights, mom’s siding with girlfriends, and being essentially kicked out of the house.

What to do, what to do? The easy thing to do would be to stay with the Cancer Victim, even though everyday a little bit of you would die inside, to the point where one day you could possibly agree to marriage while drunk. Why is this easy? Because it avoids fights, avoids threats of bodily harm to all parties, and keeps the status quo, even though no one is really happy.

The right thing? Break up, obviously. The breakup is the only way anyone has a remote chance of being happy in the future, and I’m including myself in there.

But, as even I know, even though easy is an unhappy option, it’s still got its draw. I know. I did, after all, date Fat Boy for two years, even though I wanted to break up with him after two months. Even if you’re unhappy, it’s a comfortable unhappy. You know what’s going to happen, and can predict the future.

Breakups are hard, even if they are necessary. Easy is just so, well, easy. And until you know what the future holds—which is always sketchy at best—easy is often the way to go. Even if it means you never get to see your best friend, or that maybe you don’t want her anymore.

Do you not want me anymore?

Sorry, self-doubt sneaking in there. Anyway. So, while I know You may choose what’s easy, he’s lucky that I’m choosing what’s right. Because it’s hard being friends with him now that I am the devil’s spawn, according to the Victim. It’s hard to not hang out with him whenever I have free time. It’s hard not to call him on a daily basis. It’s hard knowing that half the time I spill my guts to him, it’s through this blog here, and the rest of the world it going to see it too.

And it’s really super hard to not tell the whole story out of respect for a person who hates me. And even if You said I could come clean and tell everything from the beginning, in excruciating detail, I wouldn’t. Because that’s just too damn easy, and I’m really trying hard to do what’s right, so that You can do what’s easy.

—”Maintain Consciousness,” MmmHmm: Relient K

Oddly enough, his birthday coincides with the first time I ever met him—Memorial Day weekend, 2002. It seems so strange that we’ve been friends for four years. Even stranger that it feels like I’ve known him forever. In the beginning, we were not the closest of friends. I met him through a mutual friend, and we started hanging out in the same circles. Most of the time, we didn’t have much to talk about, so we talked about sex. I mean, doesn’t everybody?

Later on, we fell out of touch until he called me up out of the blue, and asked me to lunch. We started all over again that day, and it was rather nice.

Now, he’s my best friend. He’s a reflection of myself that I thought I would never see. People always assume that we’re secretly trying to date each other (even while having relationships with other people), but that just isn’t true. I spend far too much time alone with myself to want to date someone who reminds me of me.

When we talk about things, he really listens. He never interrupts, which makes me feel instantly terrible when I do it to him. We like to read, and often read the same things so that we can discuss them like we’re smart people.

It’s gotten to the point that I can’t comprehend not being friends with him. Even if we didn’t talk for a year, I know that when it comes right down to it, I can always rely on him, even if he isn’t quite dependable.

Even though at the moment things are pretty iffy—what, with neither of us having a car, and his girlfriend hating me and wishing I would die—he’s still my best friend, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

One of the best days of my life has to be be when he told his girlfriend in a fight that I was his best friend, and of course he was going to hang out with me. It was the first time that someone had ever said I was their best friend, and I didn’t already know it when they said it. I got a little bit drunker after that, and we did end up in bed together, with my sister…

Okay. So we just slept. I suppose I shouldn’t make it sound so slutty.

Anyways. Happy 24th birthday to You, and I hope we do something fun tomorrow to celebrate, even if it’s just getting a hangover.

- “Pennyroyal Tea,” In Utero: Nirvana¹

1. I realize this doesn’t seem like a birthday song quote, but Nirvana is one of our shared favorite bands, and You really likes this song. Or I could be wrong, but anyways I thinks this quote fits rather well with our friendship.

However, in hanging out with him, I notice things that just don’t come across in an email, or on a phone call. Like his sense of humor. I mean, we both think the same things are funny, but sometimes you have to be in the same room to see the funniness of it.

For example, Dustin came over, and the three of us were sitting around the living room watching TV. I went over to give Dustin a good hello, and sat on his lap. While we were talking to each other and You, I started laughing hysterically, and when You asked what was up, I told them that Dustin’s shirt was inside out. I realize that that may not be hysterically funny in general, but Dustin’s shirt was a button up. After a few minutes, he says “I wondered why I couldn’t find the buttons.” Which made me and You laugh harder.

And while it’s probably not funny in the retelling, it was really funny at the time.

After Dustin turned his shirt right side out, the three of us went to Wal-mart in the smallest truck known to man. I don’t think I’ve ever had to sit that close to You ever in my life. I was practically in his lap with my boyfriend next to me.Thank god we didn’t get pulled over.

Dustin also took You and me out to dinner, which was nice, since I wasn’t expecting that at all. Unfortunately, he got sick from it, and had to leave early. I’m not even sure if he went to work that night, he was feeling so poorly.

In all, it was a decently good weekend. While I missed seeing Dustin on Sunday, I made up for it by cleaning my room (I forgot how clean it could be), sorting through all my school papers, and wasting the rest of the day playing Sims 2.

I did put off my Frankenstein paper, though, and since it’s due Tuesday, I’ll be working on it all night.

—”Roll With It,” (What’s the Story) Morning Glory? : Oasis

I took one this morning, although that isn’t why the post is late. No, that’s because I was too lazy to plug in the laptop last night to sit down to write. Although, I did think about it.

The math test today was all about square roots. I don’t particularly like square roots, but this test was easier than all the rest, and took me only an hour, instead of the normal full class period of an hour and a half. Yippy.

I did have a nice conversation with a girl in my class who I had never talked to before. Turns out she’s an English major as well, and we’ll be in the same American Lit class next fall. Since there’s only one American Lit class next fall.

Other than that, nothing.

Well, there’s new stuff, but I can’t talk about it because it’s mine to tell. I’m happy about it, though, although I feel bad about it at the same time. Yeah, confusing. Perhaps You will talk about it with me on our podcast, since it’s his story.

I am looking forward to seeing Dustin tomorrow, which is odd because I only ever see him on Sunday. But, with it being Mother’s Day this weekend, I have to spend the day with my mother, so Saturday it is.

Have I bored you yet? Ah, well, next week will be better. Hopefully.

—”Semi-Charmed Life,” Third Eye Blind: Third Eye Blind

We were talking over AIM last night, and she was lamenting over the belief that one of her teachers would fail her since she missed five classes.

I don’t believe the teacher will fail her, but K probably won’t believe me, so in turn, she probably won’t turn in her paper, which will cause her to fail. It’s a cycle she likes to put herself in.

She’s been trying to convince me for a month now that next semester she’ll take my Math class online, and I’ll take an English class for her. However, I finally gave her a complete and definite no, which was the same answer it was going to be all along.

K didn’t like that I pointed out that she was lazy. Of the five times she’s missed class, I’m sure that none of them are for sickness. She has even more absences in her other classes. Which, I understand all to well. She just doesn’t care about school yet. I mean, she wants a degree, but it’s not important enough to put it first.

I was that way too, right out of high school. I had a car, and was responsible for the first time in getting myself to school on time. Which inevitably meant that I didn’t go to school, or left early when I did.

When I dropped out, I didn’t miss school much. I was working full time, and moved out six months later, so school was on the back burner indefinitely. It took another two years to decide to go back, because I wasn’t going to go back without having a major to declare.

I have missed very few classes this last year, which is most likely do to the lack of a car. I am a slave to the lightrail. But, also, I like my classes (well, except for math), and I can’t imagine missing English. And all this work shows in my grades. I write crap papers and get A’s. I do horrible on Math tests, and am still pulling a B.

I think that K just needs to figure out where school fits into her life. It obviously isn’t a priority—not that it has to be. And I do feel bad. If she does fail this class, she’ll have to take the lower form, and that won’t be any fun at all.

— “All the Small Things,” Enema of the State: Blink 182

Last Saturday was an oddly busy day for me. First thing in the morning, my entire family (minus my sister and a cousin) arrived at my Grandma’s house to do yard work. There were 12 of us, and we re-landscaped the entire side-hill of her yard. It wasn’t easy. I have the blisters and sunburns to prove it.

Saturday afternoon was an entirely different story. I hung out with my brother’s ex-girlfriend.

Which is weird, let me tell you. J. and I have always been friendly, but until her and my brother broke up, we weren’t friends or anything. Since they broke up, though, we’ve been emailing and chatting on ICQ, and on Saturday, we hung out for the first time ever.

J. is the only knitter I know in real life, besides myself and my mum. Which, originally is all we talked about. So, on Saturday, we went to the yarn store. Or three, to be precise. First we headed out to Frog Pond Knits, which I had never been to. She picked out some sock yarn, and I did the only act of goodwill in knitting I will ever do.

She picked out yarn that I wanted badly. And I didn’t fight her for it.

However, she’s going to knit arm warmers, and the yarn was a lovely mottled gray and black, which would go with absolutely everything she wore (as it would if I had arm warmers from it). Refrained from straying outside my budget, and only picked up a set of needles that I needed, to replace some that had gone missing (damn black hole in Dustin’s room).

Then, we went to Rumpelstiltskin , which also, I had never been to. We got slightly lost downtown, as the shop is at 10th and R, and R isn’t a real street for a bit, as it’s taken over by lightrail. There, I managed to keep purchases down to on skein of Cascade 220, for which it has a definite purpose. It’s gray, though, in keeping with my strange affinity to all things gray.

We tried to head out to Filati after that, but by the time we got there (just after 5pm), they were closed. So, when J. says lets go shopping, she means it.

Filati is the best of the stores by far, as it has the biggest selection, and all the British brands. The other stores didn’t even carry Rowan. Which is one of my guilty pleasures, along with Koigu, which also, only Filati carries.

However, the other two stores do offer spinning lessons, which Filati doesn’t, so I know that I’ll be headed out to one of them this summer to learn. Probably Frog Pond Knits, as it’s the closest to the house.

By the way, yes it was weird hanging out with my brother’s ex. I wouldn’t hang out with K’s ex (unless it was You). I didn’t feel like it was wrong, only that I shouldn’t tell my brother about it. And J. stayed and ate dinner with us like she used to, and my mom said yesterday at work that she felt like she was “cheating” on my brother, because she still likes J., even though they’re broken up.

I’m not giving up my only knitting friend just because her and my brother aren’t together anymore. We just don’t talk about him at all. It’s working so far. Although, I am a bit worried that she’s using me to get to my brother. But, time will tell.

—”Calm Before the Storm,” Take This to Your Grave: Fall Out Boy

Things are never as simple as we would like, are they? I have been putting off this post for months now; not knowing what to say and fear of causing a fight had caused a paralysis that proved so hard to break through.

It’s still hard. Words are caught up in my fingers. I can say them, but I can’t type them, and it makes me feel powerless, unable to write what it is that I really mean, and how to express that I really mean what I say.

Do you know how hard it is to say “I can’t be your friend anymore?”

Usually, when friendships die, it is a slow painful death, with both friends able to part amicably. They both know – if they even notice that it’s happening – that it’s for the best. But occasionally there is a time in life when you see that that the ties holding you together are in fact strangling.

I should perhaps begin somewhere in the past, but this is a long story and perhaps for another day. The basic mechanics of society instruct us that history is to be maintained. Friends for life, and all that rot. It’s better to have friends with history than friends with benefits, for all I’ve ever been told. And this story is all about history. But, history is colored by the teller, just as memory is colored by time. I’ve had so much time on my hands that I’ve been able to erase the colors, and see again in black and white.She and I had been friends since we were 11. For those keeping score, that’s 12 years I was friends with Her. Through girl scouts, junior high to college. From first kisses to last dances. Broken heart to broken heart, stringing through the years. This is our history, written on the pages ripped out of notebooks, folded into hearts and flowers, in spiky scrawl and elaborate cursive.

Even now the weight of this history bears down on me, reminding me of what I gave up. My first best friend, the keeper of my secrets, the shared memories of our lives overlapping. It’s hard to comprehend what this is worth to me. She was my second sister, the one who fought with me, and then made up with out apologies. I didn’t choose to walk this path out of spite. I chose it because I didn’t have any other choice.

She and I have always been a volatile mix. It was an up-and-down friendship, strewn with fights and silence. And still I couldn’t see that it wasn’t healthy. Over and over, the same scenario kept playing out, and the end result was always the same. Crash and burn, only to be resurrected six months later to be played out again.

meet boy—introduce me to boy—ask my opinion—decide I’m wrong—fight with boy / boy is abusive—ask my advice—ignore it—accuse me of trying to steal boy— fight—silence—break up with boy—acknowledge I may have been right—rinse, lather, repeat

I made the mistake of introducing Her to You. While my history with You isn’t as long, it certainly is as deep. You is my doppelganger, the me I would be if I were a man. Once, before I met [redacted], I did want to date him. However, as I grew to know him, I knew that even if we tried (not that he would), we would always be better as friends. You is the first male friend I’ve ever had that hasn’t tried to be friends with benefits, the first one who knew where I was coming from and what I meant when I talked in circles.

I introduced them because I didn’t see why I shouldn’t. I always like hanging out with all my friends together, so I didn’t see the harm. But then they started dating.

She is a jealous person, something I’ve always known. So I saw the beginning of the end from the moment the countdown began. The way she’d drag me along on their first dates, but then be angry if You or I talked to each other. She resented the time we spent together if we weren’t with her. She resented the time we spent together when we were all three together.

And then the drama fell from the sky, like volcanic ash, coating everything in a fine dust that infiltrated lungs and heart. I had to get out, if only to save myself.

I don’t deal in drama. I left that behind when I graduated high school. I tried my best, though. I really did. I offered my ear, my shoulder, my support, and my advice. But she didn’t listen. And I’ve always been right. It has always been the same stuff over and over again. Life as a broken record, repeating all the stupid mistakes we’ve made before. And I can’t make those mistakes anymore.

It was a long five months, the beginning of their relationship, and the decline of Yours and mine. I couldn’t call to talk to You without talking to her. I listened to her rant and rave about things that I as his friend shouldn’t have heard. I saw both sides of the coin, and she wanted me to pick her side. The problem was that with distance comes clarity, and I could see what she couldn’t.

The train wreck was inevitable, and no one jumped clear of the crash in time, least of all me.

There is only so much stress one person can handle. There are only so many times I can be accused of something before I walk away without a backwards glance.

I was not trying to steal You from Her. I haven’t wanted to date You except for one brief summer when I saw that he was a far better man than I had ever met up to that point. Why would I want You, when I have [redacted]. I have never cheated on anyone, at any time; I wasn’t about to start with You. You and I were friends before You and Her, just as She and I were friends before You and Her.

I didn’t decide to not be Her friend to hurt You. I did it because it was the only option I had left. If She wasn’t going to listen to me, and blame me for all the problems in her relationship with You, what else was I left with?

Not being Her friend is the last good deed I could do. I couldn’t pretend empathy any more, when really with each passing day all I wanted to do was strangle some sense into Her. She deserves a better friend than I can be. I will never be anything other than I am, and I wasn’t about to go on pretending to be her friend when it wasn’t real anymore.

So, yeah, it’s over and done with. However, deciding to not be friends with Her has led to the unwanted side effect of not being about to hang out with You. She is extremely jealous, and hates when he hangs out with me. She picks fights with You when I call.

I understand her being bitter, because I would be too, if someone didn’t want to be my friend, but was friends with [redacted] still. But I wouldn’t be jealous. And I wouldn’t keep them from hanging out, because why would I punish [redacted] for something another person has decided. I would be bitter, but I’d pretend like it didn’t bother me, and be civil to the person who didn’t want to be my friend.

But I suppose I’m different. I don’t dislike Her. I don’t wish bad things on Her. I just knew that for both of us to be happy while remaining friends was an impossibility, and I didn’t want to make her unhappy, or be unhappy.

So I don’t call You. I won’t make You pick sides, this is my decision after all. And we do what we can to stay in touch. But it’s hard, since the only time we ever get to talk is through IM, and we’re hardly ever online at the same time.

I can hope that one day things will change, but I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking with it. And You understands and supports me, the same as I support him in dating someone I don’t particularly like any more.

—”Sending Postcards From A Plane Crash (Wish You Were Here),” Take This to Your Grave: Fall Out Boy