Seeing Stars and Bars

I slept all day today. Woke up in time for dinner. My doorbell rang at some point during the day and my dog barked at it a lot but I stayed in bed. At some other point I tried doing my biofeedback, and while it felt like I relaxed things well, my hand temperature stayed below 80° and then I fell asleep again. I tried doing a crossword puzzle while I ate breakfast and couldn't make sense of any of it; the same crossword puzzle at dinner took no time at all. I went through my loose socks and found lots of pairs. I did dishes. All these things in my haze. My life is built so that I can operate in my haze whenever necessary.

But now I have friends. Aural Girl and Possible Boy texted me and called me numerous times. Neighbor Guy was responsible for ringing my doorbell.

When I finally emerged tonight I was ok enough for some mild calm social activity. Possible Boy and I really talk now, and he had some absolutely brilliant insight about the Freudian power dynamics feeding the generations on my dad's side (my paternal grandmother was a true Freudian psychiatrist). Aural girl was too tired to come out, and I decided to stay a bit longer after Possible Boy headed home to bed. I went and sat with another friend (boy who used to Like me and may still...he needs a name in here...did I already give him a name at some other point? He's Bart now) who was fussy and brings out the worst in me even when he's in a good mood. Actually, I'm not sure he's ever in a good mood around me. I think he's a good person, but he sparks my inner antagonist and tonight was no exception.
We weren't talking about anything when I spotted a person I'd met months ago and talked to extensively about writing and literature. The Writer came over and we immediately started shmoozing again in a comfortable, carefree way that doesn't exist with Bart. Bart started shooting angry arrows with his eyeballs.

Enter Neighbor Guy and his gigantic dog. When I saw them walk in the door, I was glad I'd stayed out. I was happy to see Neighbor Guy. Neighbor Guy gives me a huge hug and tells me how happy he is to see me, that I'm "his girl," that he woke up today and just wanted to tell me he loved me. He kept hugging me in a way that hurt and I said "gentle! careful! you're hurting me!" and he didn't care.
I tried to introduce him to The Writer and he said, "I don't care who he is, I'm glad to see my girl." He wanted to take me out to dinner right at that moment. When I told him I wasn't feeling great, I'd spent the last two days in bed, there was no way I was up for going out to dinner at this point, he took it personally. He lashed out. He gave me all kinds of crap.
"Why do you never want to do things with me? Why won't you let me show you how much I appreciate you?"
"If you really appreciate me and want to do something for me, you'll respect my feelings and my wishes and let me go to bed. I don't feel well. You are being unreasonable and stressing me out and making things worse instead of doing something nice."
Bart kept chiming with "Oh my god, who cares. You guys are freaking out over nothing." Always the helpful input. Usually that's my sister's chorus when my dad or I get upset about anything, warranted or not.
I went home. I know I said the right things and Neighbor Guy was drunk. I'm still frustrated as all hell. It's hard enough for me that I can't do everything I want to whenever I want to without my body wigging out and turning into a useless piece of painful crap for indefinite periods of time; I don't need a "friend" actively trying to make me feel guilty when I listen to my body's clearest messages.

It's not about you. Everything isn't always about you.

Funny, Possible Boy and I were talking about our parents earlier in the evening, and this reminds me so much of my mom.

I wonder what percentage of writers have/had parents who were the Center of the Universe. When you're born to a Star, it's easy to become the Narrator.