People ask me what kind of relationship I have with the closest people to me. And when I think about it, technically I don’t really have some kind of relationship with anybody. I don’t know how to exactly explain it.
It’s just that, I don’t have a “bestfriend” I can’t even take that seriously. When I think of calling someone my “bestfriend” I feel fake. I usually go for close friend, or greatest friend. But then they ask me what they have to do to be a close friend.
That’s the problem. I have a general idea of what I want my close friend to be, but I can’t just write down a list of what they have to do and act. It’s just something I’ll know. I’ll have this feeling that they really deserve the title of my close friend.
Maybe my expectation is high. Maybe I’ll never have the greatest friend, or even a small group of close friends. But I could care less, because seeing the way people act, I don’t even know If its worth searching.
Right now I have a group of people I consider friends, but even now they seem to care less of me. It was like they felt bad and alowed me in, giving me the feeling of acceptance; but really, I’m just standing at a distance: smiling when they’re happy, frowning when they’re upset. I do appreciate their charity but I don’t think they realize how much it upsets me.
I build walls around myself. It’s just something I do. Maybe it’s the fact that if I open up reality will hit me in the face and I’ll realize that I’m just like the people I fear the most: heartless, cruel, fake, backstabbing.
I wish I could break the walls down, but it’s not that easy. I try. I want to, but I fear that if I do it’ll happen again: I’ll become vulnerable.
I hate that. I hate feeling like I need to lean on someone. Trusting them even though I know that they’re just helping me drown, helping me stay vulnerable so that I’ll stay by their side, always looking up to them and wishing to be like them.
Not all people are like this, but because of all the times I have tried, I always regreted it.
I know this is cliche, but it seemed the best way to explain things. But it doesn’t matter how I write this, because this is something for me. It’s my way of confronting myself. Maybe after re-reading this I’ll find the real reason behind my acts.
Because right now, I’m just confused and upset with myself.
Upset about who I have become.
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