Consistency is a lot of work.
Making time for anything takes a lot of fucking effort these days.
It takes work to forge relationships with people who aren't giant flakes.
We're the generation of entitlement and nobody is gonna do anything they don't feel like.
Unless there's something in it for them.
I get it.
Sometimes I don't want to share my time.
Sometimes I cancel my dates so I can play Mariokart.
Sometimes I want to do what I want, by myself with no one other than my cat staring at me in judgement from across the room.
The times I do have a problem are when people flake when it's important.
You don't want to meet me for happy hour because your period has sucked all the energy required to put on a bra?
Fine. Whatever.
But I invite you to something weeks upon weeks in advance and you bail?
Not cool, brah.
I hate when people let me down.
I'd tie myself in knots just to make the people I love laugh.
I expect my beloved to treat me with the same caring grace.
It makes me want to kick them in the vagina when I feel like they're indifferent to my disappointment.
This time of year brings out the best and worst in people.
When Dickens was writing A Tale of Two Cities he must have been talking about Christmas time.
I know in a month it won't matter.
Hell, it may not next week.
It's just strange.
Why is it always the way that the people you don't expect to be there for you, are, and the people you do expect to show up can't be bothered to send an emoji?
There's something really poetic in all that.
I just haven't figured out what it is.
:-/
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