Friends

The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve begun to understand and appreciate my friends. My friends have always been very important to me, and I’ve never really thought much of it. I treat them like family because, to me, that’s what they are. You don’t get to choose your siblings, but you do get to choose who you love like your brothers and sisters. The danger lies in our natural fallibility–what if you choose wrong? What if you choose someone undeserving of your friendship and kinship? What if you do what I did?

I made the wrong decision. I was blinded by what I thought I knew–who I thought I knew. We were close, and we were inseparable. Unfortunately, proximity does not determine compatibility.

I know everything about him. Everything. You could ask me anything about him and I’d be able to tell you the answer. I know his mind and how it works and the way he goes about things. I know when he wants to tell me something, and I know when he’s lying. I know what he’s scared of and what he cares about. I know it all. This is what friends are supposed to do, especially best friends. I know all of these things about him, but, recently, I started thinking about what he knows about me. I learned all of these things about him because I care. I care enough to ask and find out. I care enough to listen.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t care about me, not really. If he did, he’d want to know about what I feel, what I care about, what I want. He is only concerned with himself. I am convenient. I listen. I discuss. I care. I’m a wall that he can bounce his feelings and worries off of. But we spend so much time discussing him and his life, he never makes time for mine. That isn’t friendship. That’s parasitism. It’s a one way relationship where I have no benefit.

I never realized things were like this until I came to a difficult moment in my life. I tried to talk to him about it, but he was uninterested. He didn’t even ask if I was alright… He brushed me off because I’ve “always been ok.” If he was really my friend, he’d know the difference between “ok” and “broken inside.” From that point, I began to pay closer attention, analyzing the past for evidence of a time that he cared. It’s funny, you can find things where they aren’t if you really want to. I fooled myself, at least for a little while. More things were happening in my life, my time at home was dwindling, and still, no response from him. Not an ounce of concern or worry for me.

That was it. I ended it. It is such a strange thing to end a friendship, to sever a tie that was once so strong. I was saddened at what I had lost, but in retrospect, I didn’t really lose anything. I think I gained some freedom. I gained insight into what I deserve and to what I want out of my relationships. I know what I need to be happy, and this wasn’t it.