Okay, here is my problem:

I am beginning to think I am either the most expendable person in the universe or just a doormat and I do not know how to fix the problem, but I am getting tired of it.

First, there is my Eagle and his new twit. Last weekend was all a flurry, he was in the hospital and I was needed. I put everything on hold (not that I had any major plans) and went to his side. I spent the better part of 4 days in the ICU with him and then ran all of the needed errands when he was released. We made plans that I would go over there today and spend some time. I called last evening to confirm those plans and was told perhaps next weekend would be more convenient for them. They had decided that Sunday would be "chore day". So, I was put off because it was a higher priority that they weed and feed the lawn.

Then, there is my friend Cat. There have been any number of times I could name where I have dropped everything to be there for her. She is going through some difficult times with her daughter and she and her partner of five years have split. I have even assisted her financially because of the mess her partner left her with. Well, I just tried to call her to see what she was up to. She was very cold on the phone and I was simply told "I'm busy". (She was fishing, btw)

Shall we go on... basically I am the friend that is there whenever my friends need me: they can call on me anytime of the day or night (and they have)and I am there, I am counselor, emotional support, physical support, whatever they need I provide. Yet, I am not a priority to any of my friends. This is not the first time I have experienced these brush offs and I am getting just a little sick and tired of it. I value my friends and want to be able to spend time with them, but I am tired of being put off or rescheduled. Yet, time and time again I find myself willing to change my plans and schedules for them because this is the only way I can see them or spend time with them.

Is it wrong of me to feel insulted because weed and feed is more important? Is it wrong that I feel slighted because I friend I have been there for through thick and thin cannot spend 5 minutes talking to me because she would rather be baiting a hook?

How do I make the people in my life realize that they are making me feel used and useless at the same time? Or am I wrong?
irishredlass: (Default)
( May. 24th, 2009 07:46 pm)
Yes, I cannot believe it, but dear sweet [profile] elise_wanderer wrote this wonderful story just for me!  I so wonderfully mirrors how I feel today now could somebody tell me where Severus is hiding in my house?  I've looked all over.

For Irishredlass


“Oh,” Ron was saying, “there’s this pick-up game....”

He looked positively pitiful, and Hermione’s heart sank. She put on a brave face, however. “No problem, Ron,” she replied with a cheerfulness that he only chose to hear. “We’ll do it another time.”

“Next weekend,” he answered eagerly. “I promise!”

She pulled back from the Floo and sank into her chair with a pitiable sigh.

She looked across at the shaft of mid-morning sunlight twirling dust motes into the stuffy, silent staff room and resisted the impulse to cry. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It couldn’t be that. But he always seemed to put her second (or even third–there was that time with Seamus and Declan that still rankled whenever she thought about it).

Hermione swallowed hard and chewed her lip. If she was being honest–and she did try–her pride was the biggest victim here. Ron could be fun, but he could also be very high maintenance, and she could still salvage the day. It just hurt that she didn’t seem to come first anymore. Hadn’t for a long time. It would be nice to come first with someone.

“Fuck him,” she muttered aloud and stood up to leave the room.

And froze in place.

Because the empty room was not quite empty.

Glittering black eyes met hers in cool appraisal. He had risen from his own seat, apparently about to make a silent exit, but now he stood in the opposite corner of the room watching her. His eyes were unreadable.

Hermione blushed, embarrassed, and started to turn away.

“Fuck him indeed,” came the voice from the corner, a soft challenge spoken with the raspy aftermath of Nagini’s attack.

Her head flew up. “I beg your pardon?” she asked sharply.

“He’s making quite a habit of this,” Severus replied, his words still quiet but containing an unmistakable sharpness.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she retorted, just as sharply, though of course she was lying.

“He’s an ass, you know,” Severus continued as though she had not spoken.

Hermione slumped against the armchair trying to control her emotions. “He’s just–“ she began, but Severus had taken three rapid steps toward her, grasped her by the arm, and effectively silenced her.

“Don’t apologize for him,” he spat. “He’s a selfish ass who doesn’t even remotely deserve–“ All at once, he stopped himself and blinked down at her. He seemed surprised to find her suddenly so close. He drew a ragged breath.

Startled, Hermione simply looked at him, feeling as though she might really be seeing him for the first time. Three years as colleagues had given her little opportunity to know him any better, though he had treated her with distant respect all this time. Recently, though, he had taken to ducking out of her way and had seemed to put as much distance as possible between them at obligatory weekly staff meetings.

This was the closest she could ever remember being to those piercing eyes, and she took advantage of the suspended moment to study his face, all sharp angles and unknowable mysteries. All at once she wanted to touch his cheek. Where had this impulse come from? Almost of its own accord, her hand raised, and the tips of her fingers brushed his flesh, and he shivered at the contact.

“Habit?” she managed to ask in a very tiny voice.

He flinched back but did not break her touch completely.

“Severus,” she breathed, and there was wonder and question and possibility in that breath. His eyes flickered, and his lips parted just barely.

But it was enough.

For a heartbeat, his eyes closed, then flew open, his suspicion clear and sudden, but the hand at his cheek gentled to a caress.

“How...” she began, and her voice faltered before she mastered it once more, “how long?” she finally managed to ask.

His midnight eyes shimmered. “Forever,” he replied at last. “Forever.”


irishredlass: (Default)

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