I have these two people in my life who I would call friend. I haven’t known them for long. About eight months or so. I think they actually might want to be my friend.
I can’t believe it. I’m not saying that in a surprised way. I’m saying it in a ‘no’ way. Like, no I can’t believe that. I can’t. I won’t allow myself to believe it.
And it doesn’t seem to matter that they seem to… like me. Seem to actually want to be my friend. Seem to actually enjoy my presence. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how many hours I spend with them or how many conversations we have or… or anything really. Because why would they want to be friends… with me?
Why would they want to be friends with me? It doesn’t make sense. I don’t have any good to offer their life. I’m not fun and I’m not nice and I’m not… anything. So why would they bother?
And I have these moments that I’ll cherish forever. These moments that make me smile and make me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m wrong and they really do think of me as a friend. Maybe they actually do like me and who I am as a person. But that can’t be right. And I’m so scared.
I wish I didn’t wake up in sadness. I wish I didn’t feel like crying so often. I wish I wasn’t guilt ridden and paralyzed by insecurity.
But it’s okay. It’s okay, right? Because five minutes from now I’ll be smiling. Five minutes from right now I will push all of this aside and do what I need to do. I will be who others need me to be. And then I’ll hold out until I can be alone again.
I should probably talk to one of them about it. But… what’s the point? They would just feel bad. Or realize I’m more screwed up than they thought, and really, who wants to put time into that? Or… or they could just decided they didn’t want to be friends with me. They could turn away from me and act like I was never even a part of their life.
I mean, goodness… It’s not like they’d be the first.