They’re always ruining the best of moments, but making them so relatable that we can’t help but acknowledge and even enjoy the irony. Clichés, can’t beat ’em, join ’em. That sentence itself proves my point. But to further investigate, lets talk about stereotypes. I am not exactly the most masculine of guys, but I can hold my own in a beer drinking contest. I enjoy Desperate Housewives, but I also love fishing (which most people don’t know). I don’t see myself as a gay cliché, which is nice, but sometime I fall into the role of feeling like I am scandalous or full of drama. I guess I just have to deal with it. But I can’t be defined, no, one must not be what’s expected. But then again, your limiting yourself to always being the extremist. does this make any sense? I have, as of late, had to deal with the issue of who I am. I am at home in Indy, I am a new person, and I feel like I have had to change to accommodate my surroundings some, but then again, I know I am the same deep down. am I just putting on a mask here? or maybe taking one off? or maybe just over analyzing myself. the problem is, the me at home is different in ways that I don’t like, causing me to feel less open about life, about my social history. I want to keep reaching out to my friends who I don’t see all the time, and this constant reaching has brought forth a new realization (hold on, this is coming together). The old cliché “Friends come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime”. This is making sense. I am seeing, now that I am far away, who I really need to talk to. Who I want to fill in on my latest adventures, whose adventures I want to hear. I am realizing who other people are, because I am at a distance, perceiving from a new angle. It’s sad to see the natural progression of friendship from close to distant to dead, but I guess the cliché is right. Reasons, Seasons and Friends. But then again, maybe I don’t have to follow the cliché, maybe I can just ignore it? or maybe it’s just too true. maybe i have to accept the time spent with some as what there was and enjoy it as a memory. And from those people remember lessons, and laughs? the acceptance of loss? it seems so desperate. and not in the good Housewife sort of way. I guess if nothing else, whenever a door closes a window opens, right?

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