And then it occurred to me, maybe for some being with someone is a sort of addiction, a sort of "habit" they picked up in their teens that they just can't shake...the fact that there's always been someone there for them and the thought of being without that sort of safety net is scary as hell. The idea of being just themselves is unbearable. I wouldn't know about that given the fact that no-one has ever been willing to give me a shot in that department, so it's all conjecture, I guess. But it still aches to see people feel that way, not too unlike the way I feel when I see an extremely alcoholic friend of mine order that third pitcher of beer for himself at the bar. I don't know...I just don't know. Perhaps that is normal and my view of life is absurd. Perhaps I should not be upset when seeing friends playing this sort of life-scale game of duck-duck-goose with their hearts and instead find happiness in what they claim is happiness, even though it makes no sense to me.

But then I think about my alcoholic friend and how he claims that that third pitcher of beer makes him happy even though he almost choked on his own vomit three weeks ago and I tell myself that maybe I should be worried for my friends, so at least someone is in their absence of un-smitten mind.

It's times like this that I sometimes wish I could give back all that God has given me that sets me apart -- makes me me -- just so I can have the ability to live life and appreciate what it offers without fucking analyzing it, or worse, burdan the pain of my friends.