Great day, full of food, friends and fun. But, alas, I’m feeling out of sorts at the moment.

Had a big kick-ass cookout today and got to see people I haven’t had to my place in ages. The apartment is looking cute with some of the new furniture Shan gave me before she moved, and I’ve supplemented it with some trendy rugs and accent pieces of my own. I was thrilled that several special people made it to the soiree, and those who couldn’t were in touch by phone. All in all, a fabulous day filled with creative, intelligent people with gentle souls. I didn’t feel like I spent a lot of quality time with everyone, though — I was busily grilling salmon and other sumptuous goodies on the balcony while everyone else enjoyed the blasting a/c (and my jalapeno hummus and my tomatoes-and-mozzarella-in-vinaigrette) inside. But I sent everyone home with doggie bags (my Italian genetics always show through when I cook!), so I admit I like taking care of everyone. 🙂

The problem, though, is that I find myself getting close to people but then somehow pulling away when it matters most — when I realize it matters to me. I meant to be flippant when I offered an apology for continually intruding into someone’s life. Really, I thought I was making a joke. But I ache to admit there is some underlying, unintentional truth to the statement — a sentiment I didn’t wish to share at the time. There are people who are becoming increasingly important to me and are more and more welcome in my life with each passing day, and I really want and need their friendship. And I think my hurt showed — hurt that I didn’t notice before. I ache because it’s not easy — I need to know that I am welcome to come and go as I please — to come around more often, even, if that should be what I would want to do. To not feel like I am forcing myself into their lives … to respect the boundaries but keep questioning them anyway.

How do I say this without saying it? I like being close. I want to be closer. But I’m familiar with reaching out to grasp roses but only ending up with a fistful of thorns. The invisible line keeps moving, and I keep pushing the limit willingly. I just wonder how much of it is that I am being humored or if I am really welcome. And I hate it that everything goes so well till I say something ridiculous that’s meant to be a joke, but sentiment that I didn’t know I HAD rears its head. And how do they take it? Do they think I’m a raving bitch or lunatic or what? That I would have motives other than being a friend? That everything I say could be a code for something else or, worse, nothing at all? The door opens, and I find a way to slam it shut in one breath.

It’s like I want to apologize for the apology.

I hate myself sometimes.

On iTunes: Switchfoot, “I Dare You to Move”

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