You know what? I'm so tired of not writing about how I really feel in here.
I leave so much out. I've been reading some journals lately that are about real feelings, and I look back at what I've written over the last year, and it's so... limited. I mean, there's a reason for that. A lot of the patterns that I got into in writing this happened in the fall, when I
couldn't write about what almost completely dominated my feelings, because it wasn't mine to write about.
But now, I really sort of just want to say fuck it. That's not the situation anymore; I'm not doing wrong by anybody if I say what I want to say. The only reason not to write how I want to is because I'm worried about what other people will think. And why should I? I can't imagine anyone who particularly gives a damn about me reads this. If they did care, they'd be talking to me and hanging out with me instead of just reading my blog every once in a while. That's not the population I particularly care to consider.
You know, I'm done with classes. I'm months away from my graduation ceremonies. They say that college is the best time of your life, that the friendships you find there will last a lifetime. What will I have to carry with me? I have Alex-- my friendship with Alex is one of the very best things I've gotten from college, hands down. That's one. Maybe I'll keep in touch with Eileen over the years; maybe occasionally we'll actually talk about serious emotional issues. Or maybe not. Eileen is awesome, but that's one-and-a-half, at best.
I want more than that. I want the dorm friends from different years who slipped in and out of my life. I want the Peace Project friends who somehow everyone other than me can make.
I don't want it to be over. I don't want it to be too late. Sure, I'm done with classes, but I'll be in Evanston the rest of this year, and all of next year, and maybe in the Chicago area longer than that. Most of the people I know, the people I might be friends with again or for the first time, will be here next year-- or, hell, even three more years. We could make it work, I know we could.
I want to start anew, to seize the moment, to somehow transform my connections to people. I want to believe that where I stand with friendships says little about the kind of friend I am-- there were times when I had many friends, even times when I had several close friends; I just haven't been able to make them stick.
Last week, Naureen mentioned to me, as if noticing it for the first time, that it was odd that somehow I never made it into the Peace Project clique. I told her, "I have a bad habit of assuming that everyone hates me." It's a bit of an overstatement-- really, I have a bad habit of assuming that everyone feels mild dislike and annoyance towards me-- but more or less true. I try to avoid co-op parties, for example, unless someone specifically invites me, or else I'll arrive and there's not a soul who particularly wants me to be there. I feel terribly awkward forcing myself on people-- and so when I occasionally, in recognition of the debilitating effects of this, try to take the initiative in building friendships, I end up acting, unsurprisingly, terribly awkward.
I think that what it comes down to is that one of the most humiliating, painful things I can imagine is to want to be friends with someone who doesn't want to be friends with me, and to interact with them when we both know that. The spectre of that situation is constantly floating in the back of my head, limiting my actions, spinning my thoughts and plans in circles. If the other person takes the initiative, if I know they like me at least a little bit, then I can relax and let the friendship develop. But if they're not, if they're neutral towards me or just shy, all I can do is drop hints or leave tiny openings, and then if those aren't reciprocrated, to give up. And there just haven't been enough new people I've met in recent years who've made me feel like they actively want me as a friend.
I need more self-esteem. And I need to decide that sometimes I have to take the risk of the awkwardness of trying for friendship and being rejected if I want to reap the benefits of friendship. I've generally avoided risks for more than a year now, sticking to the comfort of my relationship with Alex and pretending I don't need anyone else... but that's just not emotionally sustainable.
I'm not ready to give up yet. Yes, I'm going to try to make friends at work, naturally. But I'm going to make one last charge at it here at Northwestern this spring, and damn the consequences. The possibility of a couple months of awkwardness weighed against the possibilities of years of friendship... I know what the right choice is. I'm twenty-two years old. It's about time I stop being afraid of shadows.
