Sleepy and It's Late, So Here's some Angst-Barf about Friendship
 

This feels kind of weird, seeing as I’m really never on this site. But, I figure that my real identity isn’t terribly tangled with my online self. I’m actually a bigger jerkface offline than on.

Because I can’t think of more ways to beat around the bush, I suppose it’s best that I simply delve right into the story.

I once had a friend who, despite my best efforts, I quickly grew to rely on. Typically, I try to keep from ever leaning on anyone at all – my shoulder is always available to catch tears and whatnot, but I never expect any such favors to be mirrored or returned.

(I guess that isn’t entirely true. I do have one small circle of friends that I’ve held close since the first grade. But at this point, I think our lives are so interwoven that regardless of what I do, they’ll stick by me and vice versa. That’s another tangent entirely, though. I tend to separate friends into the categories of “old” and “new.” The old being so old that they’re essentially the family I built up during early childhood.)

Back on topic, I was entering my first year in high school and had determined that I would go ahead and make many, many friends. Surprisingly, I did find a new cast of people that I absolutely adored. Of course, most of these friendships were quite shallow. We were friends because circumstances of the time dictated that we would be, rather than because of shared pasts or interests. While I still look fondly at the time shared with these good people, I really can’t say that I yearn for them again. I’ve found another set that’s just as good in another unique way.

Though, now that I think of it, the way I drifted from some of these people did rather hurt. Like one girl who I particularly enjoyed working with who refused to see me after she got her first boyfriend. Apparently, she was convinced that I would do something to either drive him away or attempt to steal him for myself and in doing so scare him off. Or another who after undergoing certain changes threw her arms up in the air and complained that we were all to juvenile compared to her twenty-something year old boyfriend. Or the guy who began to avoid me after learning of the contents of my pants – I hadn’t even realized he was flirting initially. And really, I don’t see it as being my fault that he guessed the wrong gender. I was not (am not) done with puberty yet. D; It takes so darn long!

Back to the point, because of the slightly superficial nature of these relations, I got over those occurrences quite quickly. It was easy to just think that if one person didn’t care for me, I could just toss my line out again and catch one of the hundreds (thousands?) of others in the school. Initially, of course, I’d be hurt and offended. Then, I could move on. Even if I didn’t find new friends, I knew I’d have my old clique regardless.

Being so relaxed about it made it easier to deal with the inevitable fact that none of those connections would last, especially in terms of actual dating relationships. Honestly, I think it’s that lax approach that’s really kept any of those relationships breathing. Surprisingly, I’ve had the longest relationships in my main group, especially when compared to the too serious girls yearning to find some pure love. And, I think I’ve actually stayed close friends with most of my ex’s. In that, it almost feels like things never really ended, so much as went on a potentially permanent hiatus.

Then, there’s one guy who, for one reason or another, refuses to leave my mind. I think it’s been a good year since we’ve had any contact at all, but I can’t keep myself from wondering how he is every month or so. Then, when I do allow myself to think of him, I realize that it really hurts to be unable to actually talk to him. After that, I start to worry and then I /almost/ contact him. It’s becoming something of a ritual. At this point, I have a sizable stack of half-completed apology letters that’ll probably never be delivered. Instead, they intend to haunt me on my desk and desktop.

I know that I really hurt him. Then, I was too proud to do anything as he left. I couldn’t admit that I was the one at fault. Now I’m just embarrassed and afraid. I can contact him at any point now, but if I cave and actually try to do so, I know that I’m opening myself up to rejection.

I don’t even fully understand why his acceptance is so important. Compared to others, I barely had the time to get to know him. But I can’t help the awful knot that develops in my stomach whenever I think of potential rejection. If he were to tell me that my apology isn’t good enough, I could do nothing but to agree. Then what? Would I need to finally concede that I’ve slaughtered a friendship and give up? I can’t help but feel that the only way to keep hope is to never try patching things up and then to stupidly lull myself into believing that I could fix things, assuming I really wanted to and the only reason I don’t is because I don’t really care to.

But I want it so badly. I miss his crass sarcasm and pessimistic outlook. I miss being his opposite and throwing my optimistic bullcrap on his face. Even if I wasn’t an optimist, I wanted to be for him – for the sake of creating the contrast our relationship needed to thrive. It made me happy.

Nothing I can do will feel like enough, though. I’ve never had the mastery of words required to fully convey emotion. I don’t know what to say or write in order to make him understand how absolutely broken I feel when I realize how awful I was in treating him. I acted like an absolute brute on the night we fought, and it wasn’t even because of him. He was having problems and he needed me to be with him. But I was too engulfed in my petty woes to give myself fully. Looking back, on that night, I acted as though I didn’t care at all.

Without going into detail, what happened was as follows:

After one of our usual light exchanges (the sort that always brightened my nights), he became solemn and made a great confession. I didn’t want to deal with it, not at that time. I was tired and stressed and I wanted nothing more than to avoid any problems. So, my great solution was to try to rid him of unease as quickly as possible. Of all the things that brought my mood down, his sadness had been the one thing to weigh the most on my mind. I hated to think that he’d be upset. So, I attempted make light of the situation with a stupid joke which he took much offense to.

I’d never known him to get so angry. He then refused to accept any of my apologies and pleas. Eventually, I must have known that I’d ended our friendship because all I could do to keep from weeping was to turn sadness to anger and fight back. Then, I watched him say goodbye. I don’t recall the details exactly, but he said something along the lines of, “If it turns out you’re really like this, we can’t be friends” followed by a wish for me to have a nice life.

He’d actually started to make a habit of scolding me for this and that. For weeks before, I’d started avoiding him just to keep from playing the role of the verbal punching bag. I can’t believe how terribly selfish I was. I knew that he was lashing out because he had a problem and I fully understood that he chose me as his target because he trusted me. He gave me that responsibility, and I couldn’t even hold it properly. Instead, I shattered what trust had developed between us for no reason other than not wanting to deal with his problems. I couldn’t take the night to see past myself.

Even my writing style shows how horribly self-centered I tend to be. “I, me, my” it’s utterly sickening.

Would he have enough ground to grant me forgiveness if he knew that I now accept responsibility for the end of our first friendship? Could he trust me again, if I promised to actually be there all the time? I just want my friend back.

He’s always been a fan of grand gesture, the sort that requires others to suffer to prove their sincerity. Otherwise, he doubts. He’s always been doubtful. I think that’s why holding his trust made me feel so wonderful.

If only boom boxes were still in fashion. Maybe then it’d be less odd for me to hold one over my head and blast a song – an iPod with its tiny dock isn’t nearly as effective.

I guess in short, I simply don’t know what to do. I miss him so much. I want to stop missing him, but at the same time, that’s all I have. How does one make a grand gesture when the other is so far away? Should I just forget for the time being? But then I miss him again just a short while later. I wish I was a calculator.

//Sorry for being nonsensical and redundant.