The Good Girl takes the Wheel

[butterflydreaming]

This entry will have almost nothing to do with writing.

It's something that I don't really understand about myself.  Because I don't think of myself as a "good person" , really, even though most people that I interact with would disagree.  But that's because most people don't really get to know me... I keep my Yin pretty private.

And right now, as she does at times, the angel on my shoulder is pushing my inclinations in that "good" direction.  I feel like reaching out to someone, yet another, and saying "Hey.  Be calm.  Vent, I'll listen.  And maybe I can help you."

It doesn't usually work out.

I don't know why I do it... somewhere, later, I'll get resentful if he (or she) becomes too needy, or even worse, doesn't really need me.  Because then, I think -- "You had better appreciate me.  I'm not here for just everyone!"  And that's when I feel like my real self.  The sociopath who believes herself to be better than the masses.  I'm very selective about my inner circle.

But I keep doing it.  This time, this once, I have resisted.  Because I don't think this one would listen, or be thankful for my intrusion.

When I'm like this, I don't want anyone to suffer, except for me.  It's a kind of martyrdom.  I can ease someone's pain, and take it onto myself.

And the rest of the time, when my canines feel sharper in my mouth, I am waiting for someone to do that for me.  "Hey.  Be calm."

When I was in the fifth grade, for the first time without friends (because I was newer to the school than the others, and the friends of prior years had moved away), someone did just that for me.  A kindness, not pity.  She walked away from her friend, a girl who hated me, and talked to me because I looked sad.  And somehow, because of that, I made new friends -- not just Annie.  But she's also the reason I learned to love to write letters.  We lived in the same city, went to the same schools, but we wrote letters to each other.

But I made other friends.  And she had other friends.  And we saw each other around, all the way through high school, but we didn't hang out.  For a summer, we wrote each other letters, and then we just stopped.  I'm not sure why.  Because school started, maybe.

And once, she told my dear friend, third in my trinity, that I "owed her a letter".  I had almost forgotten by then.

I don't know if I have ever done an equal kindness.  I know that I've been thought of as a "nice girl"... probably since then.  Not before, I don't think.  I think I'm always trying to repay Annie's kindness.

But it is hard, when it doesn't seem appreciated.  And it's annoying when it attracts the clingers, and then I have to be cruel and that comes easy because I've been pushed to it.  By that time, I usually enjoy it, too.  At least a little, or for a little while.

So I have this strange inclination toward "generous & kind".  And even now, when I have already talked myself out of it, I still want to reach out.

This is public, so it sounds like I'm painting a pretty picture of myself.  I don't want you to get the wrong idea... I'm just musing.  Let me assure you that I am not usually sincere, when people see the "kind" me -- that is so often in a work environment, where I am being paid.  That is merely good customer service.  And elsewhere, if I hold the door or allow that car in my lane, that is merely courtesy.  Kindness is costly, and I usually horde it to myself.  It's just this every now and again... I want to chose someone.

There are some debts that are impossible to repay.