Friendship and Me

Sometimes I wonder if friendship is a real thing.  I find myself looking back over the years and seeing who has been with me through and through.  Truthfully?  Only my immediate family.  And even then, only as much as I allow.

I variably keep in touch with childhood friends.  My best friend from my teen years is still someone I hold very dearly, but we have spent a lot of time apart now and don’t connect as often as we used to.  And people I consider friends today… well I actually have a hard time coping with my understanding of them as friends at all.

What is the criteria?  What kind of things can and should I expect from a friend?  I like to think nothing.  I don’t want to–nor do I know how to–expect or anticipate anything from anyone.  I don’t trust anyone’s feelings towards me.  I don’t expect anyone to regard me as a friend.

Whose to say I don’t quit my job?  My only two friends in the city were met through work, and one of them has already become very distant from me since she left.  If I leave, what makes me feel safe enough to trust that someone should want to spend time with me outside the realm of convenience?

I wonder of this has always been a problem of mine.  If I just grew up expecting that people weren’t drawn to me so much as they were drawn to formality.  Heck, I can’t even keep myself interested.  Why should I anticipate any better from these strangers?

Over the years, people have changed, and I have not.  I have found that it is impossible to become a constant in another person’s life if I continue to remain a constant in my own.  How long before I have no one left at all?

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