Some days I don’t know why I write this blog.
I understand the reasons I started it, to give me a place to write down my emotions and to practice my writing. However, sometimes I just feel so, so tired I barely have enough emotional energy to make some popcorn and sit in bed watching TV.
Like today. I’m feeling a lot of things today. I thought writing about them would help, but I don’t even feel up to that. I know some people read these posts, and I’m really grateful to you guys. I just don’t know that many of the posts I write are worth reading.
I suppose it doesn’t matter. What I’ve always heard about developing your talent is that it means making a lot of shit, and that it’s a necessary step in the process. You have to keep it up even when you know it’s not something you yourself would choose to spend time on reading.
Except it does matter, because some of you actually think of this blog as a worthwhile place to spend a few minutes on once or twice a week. Surely I should write something for you, at least?
Let’s compromise. I will write something honest and real that I am feeling right now and that I think matters, but I won’t write a thousand words like I usually aim to do; I’ll write up until the point I feel comfortable with.
I’ve started being friends with someone recently.
Well, that’s not quite right. We’ve known each other for at least a year, and have talked for a good chunk of that time. Still, we were more people that talked to each other occasionally to pass the time. Lately though, I’ve realised I actually care about them quite a lot, and that I have started to matter some to them.
We’re not just people who know each other and talk, we’ve crossed the invisible line that means we’re actual friends now.
It feels really great, but also scary in a way. I didn’t realise it until today, but I feel somewhat intimidated by the fact I’m becoming close friends with someone.
See, I haven’t had many friends throughout my life. Sure, there are a few dozen people with whom I’ve spent hours and hours; who I have had countless dinners with, and in whose company I’ve been to parties. There are people I grew up with, and people I met in school, and others I met at work.
But close friends, people who care about you deeply, and who you can talk to honestly… I think I’ve had three. That’s three, total. In my twenty-two and something years on this planet, I’ve only made that kind of strong connection with three people.
One of them I haven’t heard from since I came out. The other… actually, same. And the third is currently my best friend.
Do you understand why I feel slightly afraid right now?
It’s partly fear of losing them, that this little flame of a friendship that looks so promising will somehow be smothered or die off. Mostly though, it’s just fear of actually mattering to someone. The idea of someone really caring about me and being concerned about my wellbeing, and my thoughts and emotions… it’s kind of overwhelming.
I am really excited about the prospect of having a fourth person who I can describe as being important to me, as someone I can talk to honestly and clearly with, and who doesn’t make me feel like I have to act a certain way around them.
Maybe I’m scared because I’m still hurt by the two close friends who aren’t a part of my life anymore. I’ve written about both of them on this blog before, and about how much I miss them from time to time.
One was my childhood best friend, who I KNEW would never ever leave. The other was someone who was a better friend to me than I was to them, and who inspired enough trust for me to come out to them, which then gave me confidence to come out to everyone.
I’m grateful for their friendship and don’t hold anything against them, but it hurts to lose someone that close to you.
I agree that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. However, that doesn’t mean the loss doesn’t hurt. I loved both those people, and I still love them a lot, but they’re not part of my life anymore. They’re just gone.
So maybe I’m afraid that this other friend will leave me too. Maybe I’m afraid of caring because it feels easier not to care. I know loving someone means leaving yourself open to being hurt by them. It doesn’t matter how much you trust them; people are human, which means even inadvertently they’ll hurt you in some way at some point.
I think I can accept that, but still be scared of it.
How about that, the word count went over 800 words for this post! Congratulations to me.
Thank you guys for reading this blog. On days like today, you help me feel accountable, which keeps me from just deciding to skip writing something. I hope you’re having a nice week ❤