How Can You Be Sure

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. To them a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death." -- Pearl Buck

During a recent drunken outing, a comrade of mine proclaimed to me, "You know, she's not who you think she is. Just give it up. You're no good for her and she's no good for you." I ignored this the best that I could since the only perspectives that matter in this situation are mine and hers. And as for who I thought she was, I thought she was kind, quirky, inquisitive and certainly not the stereotypical Angeleno fluffchick whose brushoff I couldn't give two shits about. I thought she was a friend.

At the risk of sounding fatalistic, it appears that my comrade was right. Although I viewed her as a friend, apparently I'm no different to her than some random who asked for her number at a club instead of someone whose gotten to know her for the past few months.

Yeah, I do know that brushoffs are an inherent, intrinsic part of social life. I might as well be railing against getting wet in the rain. And yeah, I do hear that rational voice in my head sounding so mother-like saying, "Gosh, if she treats you like that, why would you want her to be your friend."

Rationality is all well and good, but unfortunately, it doesn't stop the insomnia, the disappointment, that bit of heartache. Knowing that the pharmacology of these reactions can be put down to an sudden, short term decrease in serotonin that no amount of paxil can remedy doesn't get rid of this feeling of sadness.

The thing is, if she were just some random chick I met at a club or on-line, it wouldn't affect me like this. In fact, more often than not, I would've been relieved at the brush off, which in this case was a begged off get together followed by an unreturned call.

But instead, for some reason, I started building up expectations with this one. I know I stumbled with the friendship early on, but I thought it was a friendship. Now though, I know where I stand with her, which is to say I don't stand anywhere with her.

It's a blow, to realize that you really don't mean anything to someone who you liked. It brings you down, it makes you feel worthless, less of a person than you are. A Certain Someone before her had already made me feel worthless for two years. It's not something I want to repeat.

I realize that most people are able to brush off the brushoffs easily, shed off their disappointments like wet clothing. But for me, well, I can't help feeling the accumulation of disappointments. It's a sad Pavlovian response by now--every time I felt that flicker of potential, I get crushed. And this, this just reinforces it.

"When I'm like this how can you be smiling
saying
how can you be sure?
(I don't want you anymore)
How can you be sure?
(I don't want you anymore)
How can you be sure?
(I don't want you anymore)
How can you be sure?" -- Radiohead