You ever met a person that you just kinda clicked with? A person that you just kind of intrinsically understood, from your first real conversation? Or maybe you didn't click. Maybe you pissed each other off. Fought all the time. Had opinions that couldn't be more diametrically opposed if arranged by a college math professor. Yet you still stuck together. Maybe because you needed to; everyone else was an asshole. Maybe because you both secretly respected each other's opinions, though you'd never say it. Maybe you did say it. Maybe you both enjoyed having someone to bounce your ideas back at you, make you think. Maybe you're just competitive by nature. Or maybe they were that rare friend you could just sit next to on the couch and not have to talk at all, just enjoy the moment. The one you had nothing to prove to. Whoever they were, they were important. I know, it's not a thing we like to admit, as a society. We don't just tell people they mean something to us, even if we should. I dunno why. I'm not a social scientist, or even an amateur social-make-shit-up-as-I-go-along-ist. I just know that in general, we have a real problem with externalizing the fact that we give a fuck.
At least, I do.
And then they drift away. Melodramatic, I know. But what else do you want me to say? Few friendships end in a big fuck-off fight. The ones that do, well, that hurts. But at least you can replace some of the sadness with anger. The ones that don't, y'know, they just kinda pass off the loom. Wither. Fade off into nowhere without any end credits or resolutions. There are some that you won't really regret, at least not for very long. Maybe being around them had started being a chore. The same thing over and over again. Rote repetition. A mutual thing, not said but separately agreed upon. Some, though... you like 'em. You really do. But they move away. Or you move away. You talk to them on Skype. Maybe you call once in awhile; maybe you don't call as much as you should. Maybe you don't talk to them at all, or they don't reply. Maybe you never dial their number again.
It's the internet age, there's no excuse. No one will ever be unreachable unless you fucked up or they disappeared in North Korea. But still you sit. Watch that screen. That taunting little typing cursor, daring you to write something. You do. No, not right. Erase it. Type it again. No. Over and over. 20 minutes have gone by. Still nothing. Nothing that sounds right. So you close the tab, a coward. Defeated by your own apprehension. Every time you do this, it widens that little gap between you. Such an insignificant gap, but it feels so big. It keeps getting bigger every day. You know this, but can't seem to do anything about it, like so many other things. It puts you in a sour mood for the rest of the day. Like an old scar, a nagging itch. You just can't concentrate. Tap your pen. Procrastinate. Read through the same clickbait articles it seems there's always been and always will be. Pandering nothingness to a common denominator. Every stupid little slide with its stupid little caption and its glib little bon mot makes you feel a bit sludgier. Look, a funny cat. How funny. It's a funny cat. Look at it do its little funny cat thing. But it's not really funny, for some reason. And you move on to the next one.
You should really be doing something right now. Maybe you're at work. Maybe you're at home. Maybe you're at school, tuning the teacher out. There's something you could be doing. But there you are. Trying to fill a tiny emptiness with emptiness. It's not that big of a hole, really, and it won't be there forever. But it's there now. And it's a deceptive little fucker. Just when you thought it was gone, bam. Little twinge. Something reminded you, and oh, that guy. I liked that guy, you think. I should talk to him sometime. But you don't. That's just the way it goes. Sad story, old story. Things change. You'll find new ones. It's no big deal, in the long run.
At least, that's what you say to yourself. It's true; friends are basically an infinite resource. But each one of them leaves a mark on your life; some positive, some negative. And no, it's not a universe of equals. Some leave bigger ones than others. It's worth it to keep those, you know. Even if you want nothing more than to punch 'em right in their stupid face sometimes. Even if they're thinking the same thing, and they're better and punching and worse at impulse control. You get as many friends as you can hold, but the really good ones only come around once in awhile. So don't be an ass, if you can help it.
That's my serious quota for the month. I'll be back with run-on sentences and overbaked humour next week, just like usual.