I’ve made many friends throughout my life, and lost seemingly many more. Making friends is easy. The way I’ve found most effective is to approach someone with a compliment over something that they have added to themselves; a compliment on a shirt. Other times, making jokes will do, and other times, still, just by association. How about splintering friendships? Growing up, they were always aggressive psychological assaults. Until recently, they faded due to proxemically-inconvenient inevitabilities.
I lost some friends today.
I could go find them, but certain trusts I’ve given have been broken. I am a generous individual and will give more than I expect to receive just because I’ve been given much over the years – and not just shit – that have helped me become the person I am today. It’s not that having such generosity taken for granted is a problem.
It’s when the friendship itself is taken for granted.
When years of generosity without expectations of reciprocation can be swayed during one hot afternoon without my presence to even defend myself, there is little that can be done to repair such a grave misfortune upon a friendship that was actually not founded upon any empathy or long-term considerations of friendships.
Friendships can be fickle.
During a low point in my life, I made a complete list of all the people I ever considered friends. I don’t have reference to that list anymore, but I can only really recall two or three of the ones in the “top five,” and that’s only because those are friends that I’ve still had since that time and will continue to have for years to come.
Those are people I can trust multifacetedly.
These people are not easily influenced by outside forces as the former friends, orbital acquaintances, and others that have floated into and out of my life over the years have been like, and ever still I grow weary of new people. I am still generous, but only with that which I am OK with losing. Still, it’s hard, sad, and I don’t like it.
I felt like the black sheep in my elementary school.
I had people that would pretend to be my friends but would only just take advantage of me, as I’m sure is more common than we like to remember in school, but I especially felt awkward and weird throughout most of my life, through college, and I think I only opened up within my first two years of my professional life.
Now, I’m quiet and seemingly socially well-adjusted.
In reality, I’ve learned to respect scant few people with that respect based on repeated behaviors with others or myself based on their behavior, judgments, and reactions. For everyone else, they get an affable version of myself until they act in ways that are not acceptable, after which they get a version of myself that is sharper, less jovial, and not generous or empathetic.
Mistakes of character happen frequently.
Some mistakes are more malicious or intentional than others.
|Sources: My personal and professional experiences.|
|Inspirations: No comment.|
|Related: Other Sober Living essays.|
|Picture: Nothing much.|
|Written On: June 15th [30 minutes, WordPress – with some distractions about these current events.]|
|Last Edited: June 15th|