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I have this kind of usual feeling, commonplace sense of dread. To someone like me, the world is alternate. On good days I'll be in a fairly great mood, and the day will come of, fairly well. On a bad day, the stress rises and the anxiety sings maddening songs of doubt and funny thoughts that don't quite fit in, anywhere. I can, and tend to be, sometimes, overly analytical of things, because it feels as if I should be prepared for the inevitable downfall, as opposed to enjoying it while it lasts.
So, I've made a new friend, called Sazi. A queer, geek, vegan extraordinaire Scottish girl, who, surprisingly, thinks a lot like me. Which, I find odd, just slightly, as most of my thought processes find themselves out because I'm a slight bit addled and a whole amount of self concern. She seems, more free than I am, some of the time.
So, I start to think, when does it end? My friend history is now, almost entirely in cyberspace. This can be, obviously, a bad thing, as I don't have many, if any, real people to go out with, other than family, of course. The internet, especially, is cyclical in some manners. I am cyclical in some manners. I find new friends, I talk with them for ages and ages, and then, bit by bit, the time we spend talking, drips away, it disappears, and I'm left with an imprint of someone, and a sense of displacement. Mist and Shep are uni students now, not the people they once were, and while that's good, I haven't said so much as many words to them in a long time. Before that was Sam and Robert, and now, I don't really converse with them for months at a time. They're all older, and, in different places than I am. Not that it matters, but, it doesn't exactly help for talking purposes, even if the friendship is still there, is still strong.
I used to talk with Amanda a lot, and, I don't, I can't, place a fault, because there isn't really one, but, see, we don't talk that much anymore. Neither do I and Zary.
I don't think about it often, but the thought has presented itself. It does end, at some point, this continual talking, this, looking forward to talking, this general hype and excitement. Unless we both make the effort, unless, she doesn't get carried away completely by her own life, the talking does come to an end. In time, Sazi will drift away, and I'll look for someone else to talk to, someone else new, who gives over the illusion of talking more often, being there, more often.
This is, a pitiful feeling, and I hate it, but it's, just, one of those doubts I get. One of those mere feelings I try to explain, but don't really make sense. That I feel guilty and sorrowful for.
If I wanted to keep a friendship a certain way, with the people that I associate with, it's almost impossible. People nations and states away, live totally different lives, in circles, in cultures, that aren't my own. My friends, my contacts, live, in other worlds, and I'm here, just here, continuing on.
Before it begins, don't chastise me on thoughts that I shouldn't feel, or should feel when I'm older, or, whatever. Irrelevant of what people try to say about levels of maturity, my relevant age to certain specific issues, the matter of the fact is that, yeah, I'm eighteen, and yes, I think these thoughts, and worries. I do burden myself unnecessarily, but I can also live more vibrantly and more brilliantly than I once could.
I just miss my friends, that's all. It's hard, knowing that I don't go out with people, because I chose to have my friends in other countries and places. It's hard, knowing that I've chosen to stunt myself in some respects, because I find typing, easier than talking, as almost every single fucking person does.
I just want a hug. Maybe a little less guilt, but mostly a hug.
There is a point to being infatuated with the idea of a new friend, all these nooks and crannies, schisms and crevices to explore. Their mind to slowly pick over, their personality, their appealing and unappealing qualities to pick out. The worries that come, whether they think of you as a friend, or just another human blob, that's a fact that does, and can, present itself. New friends are, fun, but, I know, I have been, on the other end of it, where it all ends, and people drop away to memories. I'm just trying to find and keep, a happy medium.
We all know how we learnt to spell friends. You fri the ends of your friends, stuff like that. You learn this word when you enter early schooling. You may use it once or twice in preschool, or even more, but it doesn't take root until the ages of six or seven, whether friends start to build on that social block in your mind, the need for human contact that isn't your own. What you're left to discover, over time, is that friendships have beginnings and ends, and the truly special, last, for an eternity. The thing is, I didn't use to believe in friends, I know, there is some tangible part of my past where I didn't need or want hardly anybody. And now, the comfort to me, that my friends are spread, flying beautifully, all around the world, is that at least I have them. However odd, or far away, at least, I have them. I wouldn't mind some that lived near me, but all things being equal, I have a lot more friends now, than I thought I once would. So there.
I owe Sazi a Doctor/Martha story... And quite possibly a kissing story. Having never been kissed, and having this rather full but undefinable idea about love, this may be hard. I still express myself as a potentially good smut writer, but all things being the same, smut is not the writing I do the most often.
Toodles for now.
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geeky
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