I hear ya....

I was told by the locals around here that saving snapping turtles on the side of the road is a worthless cause. I'm not sure I liked being told that. Nothing is a worthless cause. Be it people, animals, plants, or old clothing some things just need a helpin hand and a second chance. I sorta feel like that's my "purpose" sometimes. I mean, I don't wanna sound all crazy or anything, but it's just how I see myself. My mom has been telling me for years about how all of the places she worked, or the people she had met were all a part of a bigger purpose of hers, and i couldn't agree more. Ya know what I mean? Like I'm a tool. Haa....not like I'm a tool, but an instrument. I feel like a mirror. I am a mirror of who you are. You need validation that your feelings matter, come hang out with me and sip a glass of vino on my porch. Bring it, I wanna hear, I wanna know, I wanna let you know that this/ that/ he/ she/ you are ok. I'm always up for giving ego boosts as well, or slapping your retarded delusions back into reality.
On the same hand, I'm not good at breakin peoples hearts. Never have been. I feel like that chick from that movie with Keanu Reeves. (which one i have no idea but i swear he's in it) Let me explain...It's like I'm here for a purpose and once that purpose has been fulfilled then I gotta go. Like a friggin fart in the wind I feel like I need to go help someone else. There are dozens of big hearted friends I leave behind me when I leave. Be it leaving KC, Des Moines, or Portland there is always a sense of loss competing with a sense of accomplishment and gratefulness. everywhere I go (even in airports/ public restrooms/ and at gas stations) I met such wonderful people. Potential life long friends, soul mates, role models, you name it....I meet em. I don't even set out to meet them either. It just happens naturally. My ears have heard some of the saddest stories being told by almost complete strangers. I have made life long bonds with the greatest people of the face of this earth who I only know once a year for a few days down in New Orleans. I can still remember the first kid (6 years old and living in filth) that I wanted to take home with me and raise. I was 17 and working as a missions trip volunteer on an Indian reservation in South Dakota. His name was Chris. Then there are the few, the proud, the ex- boyfriends. All of them with awesome redeeming qualities and lessons learned on both sides of the fence. Still some of the most kind hearted men I know and still my good friends. Then there is the often confusing, but ultimately hilarious fictional family of mine. My grandfather from Boston (not really my grandfather), My mother from Seattle (not really my mother) and my father from Boston as well (definitely not really my biological father). These people were (and don't get me wrong when i say this) supposed to be acquaintances. But once again they ended up being a bigger part of my life than i could have ever predicted.
So i guess what I'm saying here boils down to this: although I may not be around, I still remember and care about each one of you. I still tell stories about you to my new friends, and you are forever archived in my memories. I just gotta get a move on and you're comin with. So if ever you feel like talkin' or hanging out and shootin the breeze just gimmie a call or stop on over to my place on Catfish Farm Road and we can have a chat.