The Gift that Keeps on Taking

Things around here are a little bit odd, a little bit fucked up. I moved this weekend, I was hit by a Land Rover the weekend before, I've been on Vicodin, I've been drinking while on Vicodin, and I'm a little intimidated by my own postings here.

I've wanted to post, I've had a lot to say, but I've been keeping it in, or trying to have a discussion about it that only ends in me quietly saying through salty, wet mutterances, "It's OK. It doesn't matter. You don't have to understand."

Then, there's the fact that Mary found this blog, raided it, and then threw everything she could in my face. I get it. I do. But I feel little sympathy for your pummeled ego given that you threw yourself in the way of the beating, unsolicited and unprovoked.

I thought things were getting better. I thought, "OK. It's out. This is good. We're getting somewhere," but then, then I'm an asshole.

Mary sent me a housewarming gift, a get well gift, a thoughtful little gift. It's a book about 'Girl Talk'. It's something I would never buy, and something I'd never think to purchase for someone else. It's not that I don't have a use for it, it's that the book is inherently useless.

Now, I feel a lot of things. I feel disappointed because she didn't know, and I feel like she should have known. I do and don't fault her for that. I'm trying to keep a level head. Nonetheless, it remains a source of my frustration.

If she kept me, she would know me better.
She would know the things I like, she would know what I don't.
There wouldn't be a sense of dread when I received her packages, and there wouldn't be the obligatory guilt for not liking its contents.

I don't know what to say, really. I don't want to over think this and be an asshole. I do want to thank her because it was a thoughtful thing to do. I don't want her to think that I like those kinds of things. I don't want to sound ungrateful and uppity.

This makes me think that I need to share more of my life with her, and unabashedly so, but at the same time it's hard because a) I'm relatively terrified and b) I don't have a lot of time to devote to this and further, I don't necessarily want to make time for it because SO MUCH has already been asked of me. From my birth, to my surrender, to my reunion, all I have done is give and give and give and give of myself.

I'm not saying I don't want this, but I'm also waiting for it to be my turn.