I remember the looks…(still feel ’em slide accross the back of my neck sometimes as a matter of fact). The way it felt when I walked into a room and could about hear the eyes all roll. “Here comes damaged goods”, “here comes the asshole”, another twist to a ratted out tail they were all tired of watching unfurl. My welcome had worn out and so had my excuses.
I was what you could call shunned more or less. Whatever you called it, I wasn’t welcome in more circles than I was aware of and just below the surface was a simmering hostility I was too deluded to see. The sarcasm bit a little deeper and the easy handshakes came with a new sense of serious consideration as old friends took that extra tick to debate their association with me.
Hearing about a close friend and amazingly talented artist who is catching the same series of cold shoulders due to a glitch in his own control mechanism is both sad and stunning. I now understand why the calls have yet to be returned and the stories I hear get progressively darker. It’s all true and it’s all too familiar territory. Lucky for him, he’s just at the door where I was well into the room (usually found sprawled out in the very middle actually). Maybe he can reel it all back and turn some of this around.
Hope so…too many of the good ones get caught in this cycle and eventually people just see them as beyond reach. Not worth the effort or tired from too many tries. Better to just let them slide into the realm of the cautionary tale. Another black skid telling the next in line when to swerve.