08.07.01 - 12:56 a.m.
I spent a great part of today running around town looking for my good friend Ashley. She's run away from home again. I don't know why I feel obligated to try and find her. Maybe it's because I know that I'm one of the few people that she'll even remotely listen to. Maybe it's because I feel partially responsible, seeing as how I caused this disturbance with her and her parents several months ago.
This little voice inside of my head, telling me to save poor, helpless, little ashley, whatever that is and whatever that stems from, I wish it would stop. I don't want to care. I truly don't. As a matter of fact I fight the fate with every fiber of my being.
But as always I find myself knocking on another door, calling another relative, investigating another location, planning out another perfectly designed non-lecture. The kind that take at least an hour to execute and, at the end, the person knows exactly where I'm coming from and why I feel the way I do and, in a way, they sort of agree with me, but they're never mad at me for my position.
I have a knack for those kinds of conversations. I'm told constantly that I should become a psychologist. And while I do appreciate the sentiments, I really don't need another career choice shoved into my barrel full of fifty million other possible choices. It's nice, but it confuses me.
I have this way about me where I can make every little thing seem so much more epic, so much more important, than it really is. This is probably because I like to get to he heart of things. And because I'm tired of everyone overlooking the real reasons why we do things.
Usually I'm okay with Ashley being stupid and running away from home and doing everything because of Matt. Not thinking about all of us back here who really care about her. But that's because in the end I've always known that she would come home again. She would come to her senses. I'm not so sure this time. Maybe it's because she's been gone so long. I don't think she's coming home.
I'd like to tell myself that I'm better off without her and that I don't care where and how she ends up, even though I know it will inevitably end badly. But I do care, and I will miss her. She's my friend, and as screwed up as she can be, she's always been my friend, no matter what. And that's important to me. That's why I'll never leave her side, no matter how frustrated I get with her.
I feel sorry for her, not the person she is now, but the person she will be on that day when she looks back and see all of the things she's done and realized what a mistake they were. That's the person I feel sorry for.
I see so many people hell-bent on self-desctructing and making other people miserable, and themselves in the process. And I just cannot fathom the idea of being a person like that. How it must feel to be so completely selfish to the point where you can't even see that you're hurting yourself.
At the same time, I wish that I was the one making mistakes instead of having to endure watching others make their own. Sadly, I am trapped by my own knowledge and cliched sense of right and wrong.
