september 14th, 2023

Who you consider your best friend wouldn’t necessarily consider your their best friend. This is a reality that I’ve noticed since I was young, and haven’t been able to overcome. I am clingy, and I try too hard to find that ride or die. My vulnerability comes at a cost of being unapologetically honest, and kinda an asshole from the other’s point of view. I’m working on it, and I feel like I’ve gotten better. But I’ve learned that those friendships will come in time, as long as I work on myself and hold my values and morals in high regard. I don’t need to blame others for the things I think they’ve lacked—no. I am just as guilty of similar things in their memory. I have been a bad friend. There are many things I could’ve done better as a friend, but have neglected doing, or have just dropped the ball on. I forgive them, in hopes they will forgive me; what’s more important is that I forgive myself. 

It still hurts though, when honesty seems to be your goal and it feels people withhold honesty from you because ‘I am a good person, and they don’t want to hurt me.’ What that tells me is that they think that their withheld feelings are warranted because they are being good friends, yet they don’t act like my friends in other ways, they act more like strangers. I think they’ve seen me struggle, and know that there isn’t much they can do to help me anyway; that’s where the distance came from. Why must they pity me? I’m not asking for it, but maybe I’ve deserved it one way or another, I can see why. I was supposed to be living with them again this year, but after everything that transpired over last year, I opted to sublet and come home. I’m so grateful for that freedom to choose. But I feel like my distance from them, mentally and physically, has solidified as a result, and part of me thinks it’s for the better. I know that people come, and people go, even the ones that have been around a while. At this point, there are very few people I would call good friends that would be there for me in an instant. 

Part of me feels like I’m running away from my friends, and I think they feel this way a bit. It’s hard to tell them that. And concerning my story, they’re actually the problem, but that isn’t a problem. Because I should be seeking what is good for myself and others, and not just appealing to one or the other out of necessity—out of the need for human connection. What kind of connection is it if it’s always forced and uncomfortable? Acceptance of others is key, but knowing yourself and being honest with yourself comes first. You have to know what it is you truly need, and be open for those influences to come into your life—Don’t cling out of desperation, you’ll only accrue pity. 

Right now, it’s about my family. It’s where I hold the most contempt and struggle the most to blend with. I have too many things that we don’t connect on. Same goes for my friends, but with my family, I know I have a safe place, where they kinda have to love me. This doesn’t mean that being an asshole is ‘ok’, but if you can be an asshole, a loving family will be the ones to truly forgive you when you come to your senses. That is what I feel most grateful for, I’m extremely privileged to have a family that’s so loving. They’re crazy, don’t get me wrong, and there are things I choose not to share because there’s that subtle, paranoid fear that they will eventually disown me. But in my heart, I feel like that’s highly unlikely. I needed the safety, to not only remember but uncover who I really am, and I think it starts with becoming at peace with where it all started. From there I’ll build, I’ll find the people who I need in my life, but I’ll never forget those who weren’t good for me. 

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