Mama Zombie Mumbles

So over the past weekend, I was a little surprised when someone told me that I was the most real person she’d met in our particular circle and she really liked that. I think it hit home so hard because it was said by one of the few people in this little scene that I have time for and whose words actually count for anything.

It got me thinking. True, I spend far less time hiding behind clothes, make up and pretences than a lot of people that seem to haunt said scene, but do I show my real self 100% of the time? Well, no, of course not. Does anyone?

I censor myself more than (previously) I’ve liked to admit, and mostly with people that mean something to me that have done something hurtful. I suck at confronting people like this. If it’s some peripheral person though, they can expect 100% honesty ALL the time. I guess because it’s easier because I don’t give a fuck about what they think about me.

It’s wrong though. Surely if I had any form of courage, I’d be taking the important people head on too? Am I hiding behind the excuse that I don’t want to hurt their feelings? Yeah, probably. Is that a totally lame ass excuse because, fuck them they hurt mine first? Maybe.  Then again… it’s not a tit for tat type arrangement, so then I shouldn’t go out to tell them exactly how I feel so that I hurt them because they hurt me, but then what sort of relationship is it when you can’t be honest with someone? So was it even a genuine relationship to start with?

So then we’re back to the whole being real thing. People fake everything so well and it gets to a point (this point where I am right now) where I don’t know what an actual friend looks like any more.  Who can you actually talk to and be secure in the knowledge that what you say isn’t being immediately whatsapp’d to the next person down their contact list? How do you ever actually know that a friend is a friend and not just a gossip hungry acquaintance?

I guess what it all comes down to is the trust thing I’ve blogged about before. I wouldn’t even use a whole hand to count the people I would tell absolutely anything to. Actually, I would get to the grand total of 3. That’s kind of sad right. Three hundred odd friends (if facebook is anything to go by) and of that three make the inner circle cut. One of which I live with.  So what about that thing every chick is supposed to have, where a girls night turns into cocktails and your deepest secrets and shit? Does that actually happen and I’m just too cynical to let it happen to me or is it just something that tv networks have made up so they have more story lines for sitcoms?

Do I just relax and let people in or do I work on the assumption that history will repeat itself and keep being 70% real for the rest of the world?

Do I have a point here? Probably not, but hey, it’s MY damn blog and I’ll ramble if I want to!