"Bejeweled"

It all comes back to my self-titled "Kenny Complex". I feel like such an uninteresting, expendable creature that I allow myself to feel lucky to have the approval of people that really don't treat me that well. I allow myself to be sidelined and neglected, and feel great joy when people finally include me in something--anything.

But this isn't really the case. I know I'm a vibrant, interesting person, with a lot to contribute. So why, then, do I continue to allow myself to be cut off and mistreated?

I've become a doormat, and I know myself well enough to realize that this is a ridiculous way for someone as tumultuous and outspoken as me to put up with.

I'm also not a big fan of change, though, and I think this is where it all comes from. I have become accustomed to this situation that the end of the Sandy Lake era created. Displaced and removed from my former social support network, I began a maladaptive social cycle that I have just gotten used to, even though I loathe every waking second of it.

For a while there, things seemed okay. I managed to integrate myself into this new group rather well and was actually included in events and gatherings frequently enough, I guess. However, it has steadily grown worse and worse, to the point that I am so jaded and frustrated with these people that I want to strangle them at the same time that I pathetically scream inside for them to call me.

They really only involve me when they want something from me, though, and they display a total lack of interest in not only my personal circumstances and tribulations, but they also don't seem to honestly give two shits about me emotionally. To harken back to my imagined "Kenny complex", I truly think that I could die and not upset them in the slightest. It really wouldn't make much of a difference, because they never involve me anyway. It'd be almost as if a stranger, a random bystander, was gone.

This is no fault of mine, though, and I'm not going to let myself feel that way anymore. It's nothing wrong with me. It's something wrong with them. They live in a small, insular world of emotional and psychological self-destruction, really only caring for themselves and looking out for their own interests. It's clear to me now that it is not me who is isolated from the world: it's them.

I'm better than this, and I'm better than them. I've been miserable for a good long time now, and it's all their fault. That's not totally true. It's partially my fault for letting them do this to me. I won't play this game anymore though. They are not real friends. They're parasites. And they even suck at that.

I'm not going to beg anymore, and I'm not going to feel like a loser anymore. If they want my attention, they can fucking come after me for once. I will be more than happy to associate with them if they show an interest in me, but I'm not doing this anymore.