Oh no, here she comes again full of comforting smiles and familiar phrases.
Leech-like in her tenacity, she won’t leave me alone anymore. I’ve done everything I can from the subtle to the full on, head – brickwall – obvious.
Why won’t she just go away?
There was a time that I craved her company, when it felt as if she touched everyone except me. I was the pariah back then, desperate to be part of the in crowd, to dress the same way, to hold myself in the way that she gifted the others the confidence to.
I should have realised then, should have stopped courting her, noted the warning signs and run a million miles.
But I kept on pushing, urgently claiming my right to her.
And now look.
Look how tightly she clings to me.
See how no one else can get as close as they used to.
I may as well be invisible. Everyone else has forgotten I ever existed.
Except the one.
The one who didn’t get away. He ignores her most of the time, or tells her exactly what he thinks of her. He listens when I say I want her out of my life and he does his best to support me, to steer me in the right direction.
She hates him, although she’s done her best to cling to him too but he’s shunned all her attempts.
If he can do it, why can’t I?
There’s no reason, none at all. She’s got a million other friends that’ll welcome her. It’s not like she really even needs me, but she wants me, wants me to need her.
No more, This time it’s different. I’m too old to keep falling for the same old lies, she’s going to lose this battle….
A tale by Paula Battle, aged 37 and (more than) a half, documenting her ongoing fight with the flab… 😉