Who do I confide in now when no one seems to want to listen? I called Brin the other day, excited that I had a night out on the town, with the big city lights and away from the quiet hell of the countryside. I describe my grievances about living in the sticks only to be told that I should not complain, at least not to him.
Then there are those who aren’t even that honest, simply paying me lip service enough to get to their own point, and talk about their own problems. I wonder if they mistakenly pride their selves on being good listeners when in reality they’re good distractions and not much else.
So, I write it here, say it to the wind. My fair-weather friends, my lip-service pals and the rest can ignore a friend in need as much as they want to here. Here I’m nothing but a URL, a scribbled note on a mental to-do list that never gets actioned.
In some ways it’s liberating knowing that no one is reading this, but still constricting knowing that they could. Not that I have anything bad to say about them (my friends, fair-weather and otherwise), I know them well enough to realise it would be too much like hard work to join me on a shoe-gazing trip through rural Japan.
Still, I wish there was someone more vocal to confide in than the wind.