I'm not the type of person who actually likes to confide in people about real problems. Dating, alcoholism, and sleeping with random men are easy topics to discuss. Because none of that really means anything to me.
*****Dear Random Men I've Slept with Who Have Somehow Managed to Find this Blog,
I don't mean you. You were/are special to me. Unless I haven't spoken to you in over a year, then you most likely fall into the don't mean anything category. Sorry.
Hugs and Kisses,
But I digress. Once in a blue moon, I decide that this one particular thing in my life gets a bit too hard to handle and I need to talk to someone about it. I feel like this is always a bad idea. I much prefer keeping everything bottled up inside, so that you can unexpectedly lash out at someone with little to no repercussions. That's waaaay healthier. During the course of trying to discuss something that's nearly impossible to put into words, someone said something to me that I find completely and utterly inane.
"Welcome to my world."
You know what always works when trying to comfort someone? Condescension.
Seriously? Welcome to my world? No, my world is not comparable to your world. Mine is infinitely more personal, more effecting, and harder to deal with than yours. Because it's MINE. If I find you worthy enough to actually confide in, I don't want to listen to you welcome me into how much more difficult your life is. Or how your problems are the exact same as mine. Or how you completely relate to what's going on with me. Because it's not. They're not. And you can't.
So what's the proper response?
Offering to kill a hooker.
Only a real friend would do that.