how long have we been strangers?

i have no problem loving someone for who they are.  i have a problem when i start hating them because i never knew who they were.


it's hard to watch someone or even yourself try to find themselves out of a painful situation.  you know that moment, when you go to see your friend and you can't even recognize her?  her eyes all puffy from seeing sh.t way more clearly.  that's got to be one of the worst feelings in the world next to leaving your headphones at home and finding out that your mother lied to you about the tooth fairy.  to look at someone or yourself trying to make sense of a situation in which they don't have all the pieces to the puzzle is frustrating.  one, because you can't help them.  and two because they have to own that hurt, they have to feel that pain, they have to leave themselves open to the scarring they're about to endure. why? because somehow in the end, it is supposed to make them stronger but who the f.ck knows when the end is going to come?  so you sit there, either crying at everything on television or passing tissues while she tells herself she's crying over nothing, waiting for the end to come just so you can feel better.  but as long as you're crying, the end is nowhere in sight and that's another frustrating thing.  it's one thing to be in pain but it's another thing to be in pain indefinitely. like sheesh. the good tissues aren't cheap and the hardest lessons aren't fast.  and as much as you want to get back to your regular selves, you have got to face the fact, that you will never be the same.  who you were that morning is long gone and that's probably the worst of it.  you never anticipate being invited to your own funeral.