I walked into the room and felt that feeling of insecurity everyone encounters when they feel out of place. Almost as if everyone’s eyes are planted on you, but when you look, no one’s looking in your direction at all which is then when you start thinking, “Why don’t people notice me?” It’s a sick, twisted game that will never end. However, slowly, that cold ice is melted away as your vision focuses and you find familiar faces and wave.
However, I wouldn’t call these people my friends. I don’t really have that close knit circle of friends that I can confide in: no Monica to my Rachel, no Snoopy to my Charlie Brown, not even a Cartman to my Kyle. More importantly no friend who I’d call in the event I had to murder someone. Who would aide me if I needed a helping hand digging a six-foot deep hole in the backwoods of the boonies? Probably my older sister, Nancy. With my mom a close second. Only because I don’t want to taint my little brother and little sister’s idyllic version of me. My father’s too old and I don’t want him to hurt his back; he’s in the process of getting dentures. My older sister already knows I’m shit and I’m fine with that. But I taught my little bro and little sis fractions for gosh sakes! Fractions and burying corpses do not mix. No, no, no-that’s a fact.
The moral of the story is, I just was never good with being a consistent friend to people. And that’s my cross to bear. I’m introverted, with spasms of extroversion. I’m a hermit, until I’m invited to a birthday party. I’m anti-social, until I tell a joke amongst a crowd. It does feel nice when people laugh at me. For the right reasons, of course.
I was lying next to my boyfriend one day, talking. When I suddenly blurted out, “I think I treat people like customers sometimes. And I think that’s why I have trouble with friendships.”
What did you say?
Customers. Like at my mom’s store. I’m friendly and I’m nice to people. I want them to like me. But then they leave. And that’s how it should be. Nothing more. I don’t know how to develop relationships with people because I understand I need to be nice and cordial. But I’d never hang out with a customer. I’d never go to a movie with a customer. You know….
Interesting…that’s really interesting.
Do you think I’m weird?
No…I think you’re sorta had…like a break-through.
Yeah. Sorta, I guess.
Well, what are going to do about it now?
Not sure. Part of me thinks things are ok. I enjoy my lone time. Sometimes I find it hard balancing whatever semi-relationships I have now. If I invested more time in them, I don’t know how I’d cope.
Okay, maybe you are weird.
Yeah, I know. But that’s why you like me.
That’s true. Don’t worry. You are who you are. You don’t have to apologize for that.
Would you help me dig a six-foot deep hole?
Huh?
Never mind.
Weirdo.
Write, Eat, Create 