Mary and I have made up. For some reason, I apologized for what I said. She told me she would try harder to be more considerate and, apparently, I believed her.
Maybe I'm being too hard on her. She has, occasionally, been there when I have needed her, including several very vital times.
It just seems as though the older we get, the less she gives and the more she asks. I get so tired of it some days.
Maybe I should just make more friends. Better friends, perhaps.
Perhaps I will make my first ever label, "Bitching about Mary".
It's oddly liberating. I'm taking a moment to absorb the grand splendor of the situation.
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