Rantish-type-thing

Judgement.

I'm not a fan.  Whether the judgement is coming from a teacher, a friend, a family member, or a peer, it's not fair.  A lot of people have judged me the past few months as to how I have dealt with things, how I have responded to things, and how I continue to...cope with things.  And while I have come to know which people to avoid subjects with, sometimes it slips up and appears into our conversation - even if it's not our conversation and they just overhear. This is probably making no sense to you guys whatsoever, but what I'm trying to say is, I'm me.  I can't change me.  Yes, other things have changed who I am, but I can't change the way that I react to things, how I deal with things, or how I cope with things.  All of these things are a part of who I am that cannot be changed by myself.  And therefore, you can't change them either. 

So there's this guy (for my over-protective family reading this - it is NOT a boyfriend.  FAR from it.) and I've known him since the 5th grade.  I'm not going to tell you his name, I'll simply call him D.  So basically, when I first decided that I wanted to be a writer, I was very open about it - until I wondered if there was a reason to be embarrassed about it.  I wanted to tell all my friends that I wanted to write, that I wanted to write a book, that I wanted to be an author, and I wanted them to be happy for me.  A lot of them were - D wasn't.  He asked me what exactly I meant by "I'm writing" and what I was writing.  I told him that I was writing a book.  He told me "Right, like anyone would read that" or "Right, like that'll ever happen" or something along those lines. (The book was terrible, but that's besides the point.)  That, in my opinion, made me become shy about my writing.  I didn't like talking about it.  It's only been recently that I've become even slightly comfortable talking about it with people - and even still it's very few people.  I know that with what I'm writing now, that I'm going to need all the support I can get, but I still haven't told but a few people in my family what I'm writing about - and if they know, chances are they know because they read this blog. 

D has been a bit of a debby-downer the whole time I've known him, but since my brother is friends with him, he's associated himself with me.  It wasn't really a choice I made, so much as he made.  Our personalities don't really mix well, and he simply doesn't care about the things I do.  He's much more focused on band or getting a good solo or something like that - and he gets way too stressed out about the little things.  And while I understand they are important to him, I think he finds these things really important because he's never experienced real pain, and therefore never realized what's really important.

My view on a lot of things has changed this year.  I've found out who my true friends are, who I can count on, who I can talk to, and who is just going to judge me for...being me.  D has made a few remarks about the button I wear of Jimmy, the metal bracelet my uncle gave me with Jim's information on it (which you're not really supposed to take off...), and the patrol cap liner that I carry with me, etc.  He doesn't understand how nearly 9 months after everything happened that I could still possibly miss Jimmy or even still be grieving.  I'm not completely sure that grieving process ever ends, to be honest, and if it does, I don't think there's a set limit because everyone is different.  Today, however, D made a remark, well, gesture would be a better word, that really hurt me - worse than when he first told me that no one would read the stuff I wrote.  A girl in my art class asked me what I was writing about now (we were talking about my longer projects/book-things) and I told her that I was writing about my cousin and how things have changed in my life, etc.  as well as the fact that in my story, Jimmy comes back as a ghost and he has unfinished business that he wants to have taken care of.   She was really interested in it and was talking about how she LOVES ghost stories.  This was a fun conversation for me - I love talking about this project when I don't have to explain things in great detail.  Then D had to remark in his monotone, disapproving voice "Uh, which cousin are you writing about again?" I sighed - I knew he already knew - and said "Jimmy."  He glared at me.  I said "D if you're glaring at me I swear..." and then I went back to talking to the girl. 

I understand that this might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but I'm writing this because I need to - not because it's the most comfortable thing to write about or because it's something that makes me happy.  I'm tired of being judged for this.  Jimmy was like a big-brother to me, and if you can't respect that I miss him every day and that yes, sometimes I still cry about it, then I don't understand how you can honestly call yourself my friend - and I'm not sure that I consider D my friend. 

And then he had to go make a remark about me texting my uncle all the time.  I told him he was going to be driving a lot these next few days so I wouldn't get to talk to him a whole lot and he said "It'll be good for you - maybe you can make some friends your own age."  GAH.  Do.  Not.  Diss.  My.  Biker.  Dude.

And while I understand that nobody's opinion of me should matter, it's what I think of myself, it still doesn't make hearing this any easier. I respect myself, I wish I were a little stronger, I'm pretty happy with the head on my shoulders (however screwed up it may be).

Other than that long rant, I hope you all have a great weekend.