Afterthought.

af·ter·thought

/ˈaftərˌTHôt/

Noun
An item or thing that is thought of or added later.

I am not an afterthought.

I am sick of people in my life – family, former friends, enemies, etc – treating me as such.

It’s always been something that I’ve felt strongly about for years. And all those years I was overdramatic, I was demanding, pushy, selfish, and every other negative connotation you could think of.   It was always OUR fault, it was always US not communicating, US closing doors, US pushing people away.   No one else wanted to take responsibility for being sh*tty people — it was always our fault.   And we took it.   We took the negative reputations.   We took all the name-calling and we’ve sat here while people have disregarded us.   Because we were sick of fighting FOR people who never fought for US.

And yet it continues.  You’d think not hearing from us in YEARS would be enough for you to know that we want nothing to do with you.  But apparently, they think I’m still that girl they thought I was before — that I’d just send them a harsh email griping about why we were the last to know or some crap like that, begging for them to include us in their lives.   But the problem for all those people is that someone didn’t tell them that when I turned 30, a “NO BS ALLOWED” sign went right up next to the, “I DON’T GIVE A —-” sign.  I don’t care if you’re pregnant. I don’t care if you’re getting married. I don’t care if you’re graduating. I don’t care if you’re the next Mother-freaking-Teresa.  If you didn’t care about me then, don’t try to appease me and try to keep me in the know now — all so you can say, “Well, I tried to reach out, but she wanted nothing to do with it. She’s being so dramatic.”

You haven’t spoken to us in years, which obviously is OUR fault, because who else is there to blame right?  My sister and I are the single, fat, lonely spinsters with no life — we’re the ones who should be reaching out if we want to hang out with you.  How honored we should feel that you even remember that we exist. How humbled that we breathe the same air as you do. Forgive us for not recognizing that from the beginning.   But at this point, I could give two pig farts that something big is happening in your life.  I think that’s too nice, really.  I take that back.  I don’t even give ONE pig fart about what’s happening in your life.

I am not an afterthought.

In fact, YOU are now an afterthought.

You’re the smell that the pig’s fart left behind. And as soon as it goes away, I will forget about you.

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