So, time is an incredibly fickle asshole, and if I could, I'd kick him in the balls. End of story. But I can't, so I'm left whining about 'him'.
It feels as though I've wasted a giant portion of my life on getting to know people who only, in the end, bring me irritation, anger, grief, betrayal or enhance my cynicism... or some combination.
In the past six months, my boyfriend, who I bent over backwards to help, robbed me and disappeared. A very close friend of mine died, leaving her husband and her two small children (and me) to cope with her absence. My best friend in the world turned out to be a pathological liar and almost ruined a mutua