As I sit here in beautiful Palm Springs waiting for my husband to join us today, I am somewhat perplexed and frankly sad and disappointed in two people in my life whom I considered very close friends. In truth, what happened yesterday (the purposeful twisting of and reporting of something extremely innocent into something malicious) was not unforgivable, but rather the last in a long line of signals to me coming from both these women that they did not share the same feelings for me that I did for them.
This is my year, and one in which I am cleaning house. No, I am rebuilding. I am burning this old piece of shit down to the foundation and renting an emotional jackhammer to break that up too.
There is no more room for people who just aren’t that into me. And I would tell them both, but I realized that they wouldn’t care – so why bother? They won’t even notice that they don’t hear from me anymore. And that says a lot, doesn’t it?
And so I sit, listening for the sounds of my best friend coming in the door to greet me with a kiss and hold my hand while I walk into the radio station Monday morning. And I feel a wonderful lightness of being and promise for what the rest of this year and all those that follow will hold: love and passion for my work and quality time with quality people who care for me as much as I do them. Everyone else, frankly, can go get fucked.