Friends will be Friends

My story on friendships is a truly miserable one. I've had friends in school and we grew apart - I wanted to change the world and they wanted to cut hair/sell ice-cream/marry a Spanish guy. I had friends outside of school and we grew apart. There's only so many differences that alcohol and video games can compensate. Then I had friends that were supposed to have same interests and goals, but they couldn't reach my higher moral grounds. There were men that were my friends only because they fancied me or because we were once together and still liked each other afterwards - for a while.

Once I moved to Ireland, the ranks of my friends dwindled. There was a friend that went to Ireland before me and helped me trough some hard times, T., but I later found that he was friends with me only because he was in love with my mother. I haven't heard anything from him for the last six months and so I spent Christmas and New Year's Eve alone without so much as a message from him and he was nowhere to be found when B. left for Switzerland and I lost my job. Maybe I'm unfair to measure my friends by their lack of presence in tough times of my life, but it seemed significant to me. My other friend, A., who I met already in Ireland, was also nowhere to be found on two out of three of those occasions and was rather two-faced about the third and our relationship ended in drama with flying fists. Today I got a call from A. that I deliberately failed to answer and a message from T. saying that he has some stuff that belongs to my mother that he would like to offload on me and that I only get in touch when I need something anyway. So, in my early twenties, I find myself with no old friends, one new who is still to be tried and tested, and one really lonely Saturday.

I keep on wondering where did I go wrong. I'm not a bad person. I'm interesting and entertaining. I don't judge and I'm perfectly ok with putting up with all sorts of crap from my friends. Yet, I am alone, surrounded by superficial connections with random people. Maybe it's the way it's supposed to be? Maybe my need for meaningful relationships is some sort of abnormality that should've been eradicated in human race long time ago by the means of natural selection? They say pain means that there is something wrong, don't they? There must be something wrong with me then, I'm in pain all the time.

If I believed in god, I would've prayed to him for a life full of friends or for a cure for emotional pain. But, since I no longer believe that one exists, wandering off alone on a spiritual journey seems like the way to go. Or perhaps, helping the natural selection in eradicating softies.

Decisions, decisions.