The Lemures Files
  Guest Article: September 16th, 1998

Fairweather Friend

By: Mara K.

This rather angst-filled piece was written after feeling kinda down about the state of things in the SM community. I don't really ever get to express these kinds of sentiments in public often, so I thought what better place than where everyone's sure to see? I think this covers some issues that you never see among the rantings about the SMWPR and image theft that usually abound these days. Thanks for the memories.

You tell me that I'm a part of the elite group. You tell me that I'm a snob, that I'm arrogant, that I'm not open to new ideas and new people, that I bribe people, but you don't know me, you don't know me at all. You tell me that I'm exclusive, that I'm part of a clique.

I've got something else to tell you. I'll tell you that I'm lonely. I'll tell you that I've been blackballed me for no explicable reason. I'll tell you that I am angry, that I am furious, jealous, confused, unhappy. I'll tell you that my curse is my blessing... I was given a gift, and the gift has turned rancid.

I've been around this place too long.

I've seen people fall. I've seen friends turn their backs, and I'm left without an explanation. I've turned my backs to people because I was tired of it all, because I just didn't have the will anymore, and I got a new label.





I'm sorry, I didn't ignore you because I didn't care, but because I care too much, and I'm tired. We're all busy, aren't we. Yes, we are. I cared so much that it made me sick in the head, in the body, in the soul.

I need to stop caring, but I can't. I've let myself get pulled in. Reel me in like the catch of the day, there's a sucker born every minute. My misconception turns into reality; my escape has become my prison.

I've gotten quite attatched to it, to you all. I want to sever the tie... but I don't want to drown. Have I made my mark? I have. I made my mark, and maybe I even made someone else's mark... but they don't even acknowledge that anymore.

Who's she?

I'm not real anymore.

I am not REAL anymore.

I could go back to how I was, but I don't remember how. That's what happens.

I miss you, you know.

Comments on this article can be sent to: Mara K..

Comments made on this page are opinions of the author. They are not necessarily shared by Tripod and the Amazoness Quartet.

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