Are you gonna be my girl?

I can take a whole lot of mistreatment from people, and my faith in our friendship will remain unshaken. Maybe it's because I'm used to rejection and feeling bad, and partly it's because I know that I've likely mistreated them in the past, but recently I've discovered that my faith is not limitless like I had thought. Or maybe I knew this before, but had forgotten. Either way, I've been reminded.

There has always been a huge gap between me and pretty much everyone I know. I keep all details about me, from mundane to personal, close, like they were dimensional secrets that would unravel time and space if discovered. This is because I feel that no one really cares to know, but also because I feel that the more people know about me, the less they'll like me.

So I really wonder how much my friends - even the gang - know me. I reveal pieces of myself, and sometimes they are risky and dangerous pieces like when I wrote them little heartfelt letters before my wedding, but mostly it's inconsequential stuff. But they've been around so long that they've seen me with my guard down, I guess. And I still feel shy around them when I haven't seen them for a while. The other day when I saw Jen for the first time in about half a year, I could barely stumble out a “hi” before hiding behind a kitty. I lose the ability to relate to people pretty quickly, I guess.

And they are aloof also, and as aloof as they are, I for some reason believe that they care and that I could count on them if I needed help (this one doesn't require much faith – my friends are awesome), or if I needed to talk. There was a period when Linda and I didn't speak or see each other for over a year, and still, I believe she cares. She shows it in many different ways. Recently Richard and Chris had been getting together without even inviting me, but that bugged me only a little. Somehow, I did not go emo over that. Mark ignores about half the things I say, but I've gotten used to it. I wonder how they did this, get underneath my damage in such a way that I don't really worry about it anymore.

But if I tell you I am upset and I want to talk, and you not only treat it as if it's unimportant for weeks, and moreover just stop talking to me and push me away, my faith breaks. I guess it is some basic expectation of friendship, that if a friend comes to you and says, “I'm terribly sad and upset. Please set aside some time to talk with me,” that the only response possible – if you are indeed friends – is “yes, let me set aside some time tonight [or tomorrow night] so that we can talk in private [with my full attention]”. Not “no [you are not worth my time] [i'm sure it's not that important] [i'd rather do almost anything else] [we are not friends]” (bracketed statements are implied). Also, not “yes”, and then not tell me when you are free, hoping I don't notice, and ignore it for a week.

The problem is compounded because I will rarely, if ever, even admit that I'm sad or upset. So if I tell you that I need to talk, it's because both that I trust that you care to listen and also because I'm in serious trouble. Maybe I'm just really fragile about this, but I take care to make my friends feel important (or I hope I do) and I ensure they know that I am there to listen, will set aside time to listen, and will put off plans to listen if they need it. I can't stand the thought of them having doubts about that, and not coming to me when they need help.

So my heart breaks, and I'll agonize about it forever, and whenever it comes up in my mind I will think, “why didn't so and so care? What is wrong with me?” And even then, our friendship isn't truly over. It would take a herculean effort, but my faith can be gained again. But I will have hurt so deeply at that point that it would take a lot of care. And to be honest, I'm not worth that much effort. I'm not that special that you should seek to ease my pain, nor should you desire my friendship. I have no special skills to offer and I have nothing unique to give.

And so that's how it ends.