"I know I can't ever complain to you about anything because your life is so much worse than mine."
"Wow, now I feel so much better about my own life."
"You're kidding, right? You're not? Oh. Um. So, nice weather today. Um. Hey, I should get going."
"So you're seeing a psychiatrist, right?"
"Wow, you should really talk to someone."
"I thought you told me it was a car accident? Really, you didn't? Are you sure?"
"So is your brother seeing a psychiatrist?"
"You and your brother should talk to someone."
"I'm so frustrated, I could kill someone! Oh--! Oh, sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean that!"
"Wait, so BOTH of your parents are dead?"
"Your brother's dead too?"
"Yeah, you did mention how they died. It was a car accident, right?"
"Wow, I would never have guessed. You seem so normal."
"Really? But you're coping so well. Are you sure that's what happened?"
"Oh. I feel a little sick now."
"Oh my God! Well, I'm really glad that that would never happen with MY family."
"So when was the traffic accident?"
"Oh my God, now I can't believe I've been complaining to you all this time about MY little problems."
Every single one was actually said to me, in those words. Imagine three years of it. It's become so predictable, so tiring, and a little ridiculous.
I opened up to a couple of my newer friends yesterday, and I was preemptive: "Let me guess, you thought it was a car accident?"
What a surprise.