Who Are My Friends? Still Running.

It started out with my mother. She was one of the first people I met. That is, at the age of birth. What a promising year. What reassurance brings itself to my mother’s arms, across from which my father might stand. Growing up, I have always known people because we played together. Some people I liked more because the playing was better. So, I had a bias. In gradeschool, I also had a bias towards girls: I liked them more. Why hang out with a guy when you could be getting closer to someone you like. That did not last.

We moved frequently. Growing up with divorced parents is not so much difficult as it is effected by the parents themselves. The divorce hurt, but my mother and father were still there. In gradeschool, I met many people, and lost them just the same. Once I got to high school, it had been depraving and demoralizing socially. When I asked someone (who I hung out with to play guitar almost every day) why he wanted to be around me, I was surprised that there was no real answer. Because it was me. He did not seem to want anything from me other than who I was.

This happened again later in life, after college. I confided in someone I knew one cold night. I told him that I did not know who my friends were, despite knowing and consistently hanging out with them for three years. I felt empty, lonely. I said that people just want things from me. He said that he was my friend, and gave me a hug. A hug. I seem to run into them. I must have devalued this group of people when I left – and that was not difficult to do. It seems that devaluing becomes easier to do over time, and less useful. So, I have developed a more compassionate perspective that resolves the feelings I have, rather than diminish their importance.

When I finally found where I feel I belong, and after meeting a dozen people or so, I left them all because I did not want to stay in touch and was moving. I left someone while together at an event, and went home where I felt better. Even so, I dislike being alone with no social contact. So, I have asked myself throughout life, “Who are my friends?” I have had friends, many friends. And it was not until recently did I realize that. Left with only memories of growing ideals and intensive personalities, I can say that if you are in need of a friend, you either already have one, or are close to one. Creating friendships takes time, and you cannot always expect it to go anywhere. Remember, they will always be imperfect, and so will we. That reason is often times a way to connect.

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