Skanky Street Cat Eyes

“Film Friday” that’s what I’ve called it. A compulsory social event I make myself attend.

Every Friday, myself and Glen gather at the new-found social beans house (Barry) to watch films, drink wine and play a few games with the new people in his life.

It’s OK but I feel uncomfortable the majority of the time.

Like they are all secretly thinking: Who invited this crazy bitch?

But I go.

I want to be a part of Barry’s life. I don’t want to lose him. He’s my friend and he’s my brother. He means too much to me.

So I’ll go, and I’ll put on a face and I’ll act like I’m not fazed.

But inside.

Oh.

Oh my god do the thoughts not stop.

I don’t know if it’s part of my anxiety and depression or if it’s just my general self-esteem but I swear I’m only there because he feels sorry for me.

You know, like those skanky street cats you get in foreign countries, those ones that give you them eyes, those pitiful, sad eyes?

I feel like that.

I’m the skanky street cat that you know you shouldn’t help, because once you do it won’t stop coming back but like a built-in guilt system you feel obliged to help.

Skanky Street Cat Eyes

So, do I stop attending now or do I wait until I’m not invited anymore?

I want to be a part of it though. A part of this new chapter in his life.

Plus if I meet new people through him and make some new friends that would be a bonus. Maybe I’ll be able to finally say I have more than two friends in the world?

That would be nice.

Maybe I should cling on for as long as I can then?

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