Pity Party

Tonight after work, I walked down to where Gus was parked with a big grin on my face. I'm not sure why, but I just felt really happy. I'd gotten a lot done at work, I was on my way home, and I was going to spend the evening with K. I grinned the whole way home, thinking about how much I loved riding Gus, how much I loved living in Launceston, how the air smelled nice, and how I was going to cook one of K's favourites for tea.

Then I rode up the driveway, and saw an empty space where our car is usually parked. My heart sank. I realised K was at work. Again. I thought he had the night off, but I was wrong. So I went inside and nuked a microwave dinner and sat on my BFA in front of the computer all night, doing nothing in particular. Sulking, mainly.

K texted me and asked how my night was going, and I poured out my pathetic story to him. He suggested I go and visit someone - put in the effort, surprise a friend, that sort of thing. But why doesn't anyone ever put in the effort with ME? I feel like I'm always the person who organises to meet up with people. If I don't arrange to see friends, then I'd never see them. Don't my friends ever sit around and think, "Gee, I haven't caught up with Rebecca in a while. I might pop around and see what she's up to!" I guess not, because it never happens. I mustn't be a very nice person to be around. I thought I was nice. Well, sometimes at least. Maybe I was wrong.

There are easier things in life than being a nice person. Nailing jelly to a tree, for instance.