Tired of feeling sorry for myself again I noticed Guy Goodman would be playing at JSP’s new Jazz-n-Dreams club. I digged in my closet for a proper dress. Lol – there’s no such thing. I chose what looked like the most appropriate, bought a pair of ballerinas at Shiny Things and off I went.
Mr. Goodman was starting and the Security Man on shift yelled that we should be suitably formaly dressed. Lol. A victim to outburst my anger, great ! I sat on the sofas near the stage and immediately asked if he was talking to me. Even highlighted that the singer’s promoter herself was wearing t-shirt and shorts.
I watched while she left the club, turned the corner and changed, Double lol. The Security Man was surprised – no he was not talking to me. As long as I didn’t mess around I could stay – and if any of the other team would bother me I was to tell them to go and speak with him. Nice guy, Mr. Andyy Heartsdale, I came to spend all my Sunday afternoon there. Listening to Ms. Klaranne Flanagan and Mr. Joaquin Gustav after the first singer.
I left my soul fly for a while, half aslepp, half hummering the songs. Yes, I was torned apart again. Yes, I let myself be used again. And yes, definitely, I have to change my way. It’s hard when friendship turns into something else and after a while you’re left with anything but empty hands to comfort yourself. It’s harder when you have invested money, time, hours of sleep, when you forgot to eat and left everything else aside for someone and you’re simply thrown into the trash as as used cigarette someone smoke up to the very end.
Luckily for me, I still have my girlfirends around. And me, who was never too much into close firendships with my own gender (yes, there is ONE really strong exception, but she’s my soul mate, lol) find myself surrounded now by this warm lake of female solidarity and understanding which I now will be my anchor until the moment I will be able to walk on my own again.
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