It is in the thirties that we want friends. In the forties we know they won't save us any more than love did. -- F. Scott Fitzgerald
(No, I'm not one of those "Quoting Dorks." I actually had to look this quote up and then cut and paste it from the website I found it on. Since I am kind of an "English Professor Dork," I then checked a couple of other websites to see if the quote was quoted exactly the same on each one. It was. So, unless they all just copying the same incorrect quote, I should be safe that this quote is right.)
His name is...no wait, that doesn't matter. I used to love him like a brother, not that I have a brother, but that's what people say...and now I can't even speak to him. There is something innately wrong with me. I know it.
I have been thinking about friendship a lot lately, and what it means to be friends with someone. Maybe it's me, maybe it's our culture, but I think I don't value my friendships as much as I should. What is important in life...my answer to that question changes daily, even hourly, when I'm trying to distract myself from a stressful moment and see the green grass.
We have all had friends based on time, location, and convenience. I like you because you're here. I am human, and I don't want to be alone. It is through my connections that I know I matter. I exist. But if I move and if the time is different, who doesn't matter anymore: me or you?
Fortunately, I am blessed. I am. I can say this person is my friend fully, completely, wholeheartedly. Time, space, convenience, don't matter. I don't feel awkward when I talk to them. I don't feel awkward when I don't.
I hate thinking I don't have time for new friends. Am I through making connections and mattering to anyone else? Will anyone else matter to me...with substance?
And what do I make of the friendships that are just puttering into space? How do I deal with pained moments: We used to laugh...What is wrong with me? Is it you?
Maybe I am supposed to save myself. Maybe it is supposed to be all "just" me. But I miss the way it was. I miss being...
Time. Space. Location.
Why even talk to him?
I don't want to be destined to be alone. Right?