who I really am

People think I'm this nice person.
Bullshit.
My long-time friend sent me a Christmas card and I threw it in the trash, unopened.
Last year while my mind was coming apart, he would call me...and this was bad.  By the time I'd stopped shaking from the phonecall he'd hung up.  If I did not take his call, he'd bloody call over and over and over.
Several times I nearly decided to throw my phone onto the concrete and smash it.
...Then he took it as a sign of disrespect that I never called him...
I asked if I could email him...I can handle emails better.  But he doesn't like emails, no, it's gotta be these little nerve-rattling phonecalls in which he is no longer able to understand how bad I feel because he's on antipsychotics and positive thinking, and I'm feeling like I'd rather be dead all the time...
So he insists that I call him. 

I can't.  I just can't.  I'm fucking going crazy.  He can't understand how crazy I am going.  He takes it as disrespect. No.  It's that I was so very horribly off that I had NOTHING TO GIVE ANYONE.  I was struggling for my life.
He couldn't get that.  He didn't get that.  And now I don't want him for a friend anymore.
I'm an asshole. That's who I am.


....I fucking hate the holidays.   There's never any way to escape some reminder of someone I failed.