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Polymorphism

I am really tired of doing hard things that are good for me

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polymorphism

I am really tired of doing hard things that are good for me

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I culled some names from my AIM buddy list tonight: reminders, temptations; ones that pinch because they never log on and I wish they would; ones that pinch because they DO log on, but never have anything to say to me. I decided it's not good for me to look at this kind of list any more.

Nothing's stopping anyone from messaging me - the only person I've ever blocked was that young whippersnapper who wrote things like "hey, what r u doin'?"...and I'm better off without him - but there's an unhappy catch-22 to these things. I can only send out so many unheard cries into the ether without needing to stop to preserve my happiness, but once I purposely refrain, I start to get a feeling like I'm some girl in the fifties, crying into my pillow and staring pitifully at a rotary phone that doesn't ring. Uh, well, that last is massive, super-duper-extreme hyperbole... I mean, I don't even own a crinoline - but still, best to nip all of this in the bud by making it a nonissue, hey?

It's hardly an original observation, but calling these things "Buddy lists" and "Friends lists" can get sort of twisted, can't it? Yeah, I'm thinking that, depending on how closely it's connected to your actual life, it can become quite twisted indeed.

I suppose they're kinder as labels than "Suckups and Sycophants" would be... not that those would be accurate labels for any of my intimates. Maybe I should get some, though... I could really use some groveling right about now.

No, I couldn't. Eww. Not even in jest. *shudder*
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