ill-fitting sweater (girls night)

So, last night I spent the evening with several of my girlfriends in the proverbial "girls night."  There is a long story of my friendship with these girls, but suffice it to say that what we have can hardly be called a friendship any longer.  Save for one of them (who is the blonde, rational version of me and who happens to be my best friend), I find it difficult to spend any lengthy amount of time with them.  Two years ago we all began to sort of drift apart, which is when the blonde, rational me (who is also a part of this little group of girls) and I started becoming better friends.  I suppose this did not help matters much, but we didn't care because we had become the "black sheep" of the group, or at least that's what we called ourselves anyway.  Blonde, rational me - who I will refer to as LC from here on out - and I have never really fit in. 

Anyway, all that to say that our little group didn't see much of each other very often and now it seems to me that they all have this identity for me that they packed away in a little box and now pull it out each time they see me, like that sweater that you sort of like, but don't really love, but you pull it out of the box each fall anyway because it keeps you warm, so you need it, and you sort of like it and it always stays the same, but you don't really know what else to do with it.  This "me" is just a really simple girl who runs a lot, is medially intelligent, uncreative, rather quiet, and wears running clothes nearly all the time.  Now, this is not going to turn into a "sarah101" class, but things have changed a good bit since those days.  It is true that I love to run, that I am no genius, and that I have the capability of being quiet - but that is about all that has stayed the same.  The rest of sarah-world has basically been turned on its side and I have a whole new angle on things. 

I suppose all of that was to say that I did not like being pulled out of the box and put on like the sort-of-liked sweater.  Because it is now an ill-fitting and somewhat itchy sweater.  The evening left me with the feeling that I don't know who I am, all because a few girls who are supposed to know, don't.  Which is crazy, that I would let it affect me that much, but I did.  It has been tough today, regaining the real sarah and all, which is partially (or maybe mostly) why I am writing right now.  Because it is safe, and something I love to do, and part of who I am.  It is also why I am listening to Sondre Lerche on the Dan in Real Life soundtrack.  It is warm and comfortable and inviting, like the sweater you love so much that you keep it in your closet year round becase you simply can't bear to pack it off in a box for a few months.

This is the longest post I have put up yet, but I saw somewhere that blogging is a better alternative to therapy, which is something I would never, ever subject myself to (not that I need it).  But that is for another day and another post.