Ice Cream Drama Queen

I have decided that I will no longer call people my friends. You see, whenever I call someone close to me a (good, best, awesome, you get the picture) friend, the forces of the universe decide to take my words, my simple expression, and make me pay. Friends will become develop assorted tensions, relationships will begin and end, drama will ensue! Crash! It will almost be as bad as the remake of “Clash of the Titans.” (There I said it, it’s out there now. That movie was terrible.)
The point is, I guess, that we all change. For the good or bad, that depends on the individual. But sometimes we change whether we know it or not. Maybe a silent parting and a summer break will fix the relationship and make it whole again, like day one. Maybe that has been tried before. Maybe there have already been so many summer breaks and there will only be so many more before the final parting…
I heard the suggestion of something along the lines of an ice-cream-I-hate-you-party. Where we, the cluster of feuding friends in question, chow down on our favorite ice creams and let loose the dormant feelings that we have hidden. Personally, I would go into that with an attitude. You would all have your giant Edy’s to share (spit, spoons, and swear words), and I would have one of those personal Ben and Jerry’s ice creams that only cost a buck. Yes, the one with the little spoon. Partly because my family is from Vermont, as are Ben and Jerry, so whenever I can show some pride for the Green Mountain State I will. Partly it is because I want my favorite flavor to myself, so the rest of you can suck moose tracks. It wouldn’t be the best attitude to go into a group intervention with.
Does anybody have some Ben and Jerry’s? I think it’s about damn time.
There is this sickening, winded feeling. Deep in my gut. It shortens my breath and makes me panic. I am looking side to side and everything appears to be normal, but that feeling remains. I feel like I am back in high school. Mumbling under your breath. Talking about her. Scoff. Ignore. Interrupt. I would like to go one day. No, I would love to go one day- where everyone I know feels like September. The newness of the fall semester, but the old comfort like your favorite pair of jeans that you know won’t let you down. But it is still only Spring, and we have blossomed a new boldness and contempt. We have to wait for the heat of Summer for the contempt to wither.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what not to day. According to John Mayer, I should say what I need to say. But saying what you need to say is easier said than done.
Peace, Love, and Pudd’n Pops,
AMZ