On Fragile Friendships...
I went out to lunch with a friend of mine today, and the conversation turned to people that we used to be friends with. Not people that she and I had in common as friends, just people we had each been friends with in general. And I realized something. I realized how incredibly sad it was that half of the people that I used to be friends with I no longer see, or speak with. Hell, I have no idea what happened to most of them. They just sort of entered my life at one point, and drifted out at another. No real reason for the rift between us, except for lack of interest on either of our parts to keep the friendship going. We grew apart, and no one tried very hard to maintain the fragile bonds, and nurture them.
All it took was one statement to remind me of a good friend that I used to have, and it set me to wondering about all of the people who I have left behind. Some for good reasons, others for not so good ones. And all I feel is an overwhelming melancholy for these people whom I will most likely never see again. I look back on the memories that we share, and wonder if they ever do the same. Do they ever think of me? Do they think of the times spent hanging out at mutual friends' houses, or driving around in the '89 Daytona, exploring? Do they miss those times as I am sometimes apt to? Or are they glad that those times are over and done with? Have they closed the book on that chapter in their lives, and now vaguely recall any memories with a feeling of regret and distaste?
I wasn't an angel when I was growing up. Those who know me well know that I am as far from perfect as one could get. I did things (and still do) that are incredibly wrong. And the sad part is that I know that they are wrong, and I chose then, and choose now to do them anyway. Does that make me a bad person? Well, it certainly doesn't make me a shining, stellar example of what a human being strives to be. In fact, if I were to tell you all of the things that I have done, I think that you would have a very different opinion of me then the one that you may have already formed. But I don't mind. I don't live my life for anyone except myself. That is another flaw I have. I am totally self-involved. It's sickening really, how self-involved I am. But I am honest about it. I have one friend--that's it folks, one--who knows almost everything about me. I say almost, cause there are a few things that I am even afraid to tell her. But she has known me for a long time, and therefore has been around for the majority of fuck-ups that I have made.
Well, I guess this entry is long enough, time to go move my vampire around the City.
All it took was one statement to remind me of a good friend that I used to have, and it set me to wondering about all of the people who I have left behind. Some for good reasons, others for not so good ones. And all I feel is an overwhelming melancholy for these people whom I will most likely never see again. I look back on the memories that we share, and wonder if they ever do the same. Do they ever think of me? Do they think of the times spent hanging out at mutual friends' houses, or driving around in the '89 Daytona, exploring? Do they miss those times as I am sometimes apt to? Or are they glad that those times are over and done with? Have they closed the book on that chapter in their lives, and now vaguely recall any memories with a feeling of regret and distaste?
I wasn't an angel when I was growing up. Those who know me well know that I am as far from perfect as one could get. I did things (and still do) that are incredibly wrong. And the sad part is that I know that they are wrong, and I chose then, and choose now to do them anyway. Does that make me a bad person? Well, it certainly doesn't make me a shining, stellar example of what a human being strives to be. In fact, if I were to tell you all of the things that I have done, I think that you would have a very different opinion of me then the one that you may have already formed. But I don't mind. I don't live my life for anyone except myself. That is another flaw I have. I am totally self-involved. It's sickening really, how self-involved I am. But I am honest about it. I have one friend--that's it folks, one--who knows almost everything about me. I say almost, cause there are a few things that I am even afraid to tell her. But she has known me for a long time, and therefore has been around for the majority of fuck-ups that I have made.
Well, I guess this entry is long enough, time to go move my vampire around the City.