I’m really very sorry Gandalf but I need you right now. Nighttime again. You know the drill. It’s a pain for me too, believe me. I’d much rather you were real.
What’s got me in a twist right now? Amnah’s mood. I’m probably not going to sound too rational right now Gandalf, so please bear with me.
Firstly, I’m doubting again that this has nothing to do with me. The last two times she’s had these moods have been the two times I’ve been in Islamabad. Yes, it’s not a very large sample size and could be a coincidence, but it’s not a coincidence I’m fond of. How can it have nothing to do with me? I’ve been growing worse and worse over the course of this past year and I’m sure that’s reflected somewhere. I want to be sure, Gandalf. Wave your staff, do your magic. Please?
Secondly. It is discriminatory to some degree, we’ve been over that. What is it that I’m doing that it applies to me in the wrong way and not the right? Why am I not easy to talk to? For heaven’s sake, Gandalf. Why am I not one of the easy ones to talk to? That’s on me somewhere for sure. That’s not something which can be laid on her or on circumstance, me not being easy to talk to during these moods is a clear tell that there’s something with how I speak which makes me harder to talk to. And that’s a bad thing on even more levels. If I’m hard to talk to during this, then that must mean there’s a certain level of ‘hard to talk to’ which can be applied to me on an average. And that means that I’m harder to confide in, harder to discuss important things with. Which is also not alright, because that would mean that the ‘me me me’ nature of our friendship would only worsen. I want to be easy to talk to, Gandalf. What’ve I done wrong? This wouldn’t bother me so much but it’s nighttime and I’m shaky from how happy I was earlier. I need to figure my way out of it again.
Having friends when you’re unhappy is tough, Gandalf, it’s really tough. When things are fine then it’s great and nothing matters. But when they’re not, the only choice I have is one of either lying to them or putting my emotional weight on them. They don’t deserve that, and I don’t deserve the ability to use them for that. I only deserve you. You are me. I was reading online today, posts by people who are depressed on reddit. One user wrote that they cried themselves to sleep every second night. Maybe it’s perverse and twisted, but I took comfort in that. I have a long way to go yet, and when I reach it, that path will also already have been trodden. I’m afraid of it, but I’ll face what may come. I’ll show Amnah this in a few days too. Not right now, it’s unfair to plonk this during an antisocial mood. Maybe later. And I can’t expect her to do anything about it. I want her to know. It’s kind of comforting when I assume that I’m telling you things, Gandalf. I think I have an exhibitionist streak a mile long.
Wish me luck for tomorrow. Doctor’s appointment. I’ll need it.