Friendship is hard. Doing friendship tonight was hard. I've been off with her for a while, and I don't know at what point we got bumped off our track together. It's like we were holding hands once, and now we aren't, but are we still reaching? She hasn't reached out, not really, in a while. Makes me think something is different. Yet what she said to me the other night, that she has never felt this way about a friend before, that she loves us, that seemed real. She barely looked me in the eyes though. Maybe she thinks it was genuine. She was drunk, does she even remember. And then we swoop right back around to, is this over? Are we done? Has a good thing ended before it could even start?
Sounds like I am in love when I read all that back to myself. I'm not. but, I was starting to think about how to fall in love with friendships. Women are really divided these days, and I am the woman who was never taught how to bridge the divide to partner with other women in powerful friendships.
Most days I feel like they just include me to be nice. All by myself, and I have said this for years now, I feel pretty fine, but when I get around other people I am so unsure. I would never say my key motivation is to express myself. I like expressing myself and then reel it back in when other people judge my expression. Finding myself, that's more like it. I would also say that I have never felt like I fit in anywhere, with anyone. I feel set apart like everyone can cluster in one corner but I am a few steps away from the crowd. The people are in the corner talking and laughing and I am cowering in the corner. (a perfect description, I think, of how I view myself)
I do not flaunt my different. I never have. And why would I, when a person's different was a one-way ticket off the unpopular train, and I wanted to fit in? Not fitting in, my most pressed point. this pressed point makes my throat close just a little more by the minute. The breath isn't knocked out of my lungs, is slowly being pulled. Like when Surius blacks soul gets taken from his body, in Order of the Phoenix, and even slower than that.
[unedited, original thoughts, open diary]
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