I Don’t Like Having Friends

I blame it on being in my 12th house profection year. I don’t like having friends. I love people. And I wasn’t born alone—I’ve been fed the warmth that consistency brings in the form of loyalty and compromise. The idea of sticking together no matter what and learning from one another isn’t new to me. In fact, it’s quite old. But when I think about it long enough, it doesn’t make me truly happy. I just like the way it makes other people happy. And I happily fit myself into that puzzle until I realized the ways I was ignoring myself.

The friends I have, they’re all different from one another. And I love them as they are. They don’t have to be like me for me to see their value. They don’t have to live like me for me to see the value in what they do. I see the passion in their eyes for what they love, who they love, and it makes me happy that they feel. I don’t care if they’re right or wrong because I don’t need to have an opinion on how they live. And even if I do—because I have opinions, and sometimes the shoes fit—it’s not worth putting all my money on. It’s not worth anything. It’s ever-changing and never enough for me to want to change people. I want them to be safe. I want them to be honest with themselves and make sense of life for themselves. I want them to believe in themselves first and foremost. 

It’s hard to do any of that when people start needing you in their life. When they get possessive or jealous. Of you or other people. When you can see their faith in life dwindling. Because I can’t help with that. It’s hard to follow your heart when people worry for you. It’s hard to do anything when people start putting money in their opinions about how you live. And you don’t have to tell me, I can feel it. At that point, I’m no longer receiving the love I give. And I feel bad, because I don’t need them. So it feels like we’re in each other’s lives for different reasons. I can’t give you what you need by needing you in return. I’m just here because I love you. 

I can see how people could label me as avoidant or detached. I don’t like either, but the latter fits me better. And it’s not that I don’t care what happens to my friends, I just don’t believe I have the right to control any of this. My hands aren’t big enough. They’re only big enough to hold myself and, if asked nicely and I’ve got the time, to hold others. They give freely and generously when the weather is nice and don’t expect anything in return. I’ve had my fair share of thinking my hands were big enough. I’ve had my fair share of friends who thought my hands were theirs. I’ve ignored my own voice that was trying to tell me it doesn’t have to be this way. I’ve followed the narrative that told me I lacked something and that these people would supplement that void—to keep settling. 

I don’t believe I lack anything. I only believe I’m human. Anything I don’t know, I will if I’m meant to. I have feelings that feel too large sometimes. I have thoughts that make time feel like it’s out to get me. My beliefs and opinions take me over the moon, and when the sun’s up, sometimes I find myself doubting them. I talk about them with the people in my life occasionally, and it’s not their validation or advice that makes me feel better; because in the end, I’ll do whatever I want—it’s the sheer fact that someone was there without expectations. That they love me the way that I am, not for the idea they’ve created in their heads. Or for what they could get for giving me their time. I don’t want friends who put me on a pedestal, because I’m too busy being on mine. Or friends who believe that I’ll somehow make their lives better, because I won’t. Don’t hire me for a job I never applied for.

My ego is meant to be indulged in, not enslaved by. I’m just here to listen if you ask, to be honest with you, and to respect and love you as you are. I expect you to be yourself enough to not be influenced by me in a way that makes you abandon yourself. I hope you can do the same for me, but if you can’t, I’d rather just love you from afar. And even though it feels like the world was set up to forsaken me every time someone thinks this is betrayal, I’m at peace with whatever role they’ll have me play. Because my life is bigger than my relationships. So I won’t stop praying to be loved the way I love others. I won’t stop expecting what I deserve. And I won’t stop being dedicated to being what I deserve.

I don’t care to be someone’s cheerleader or therapist. Pay me. I’m not your mom and I’m not your dad. And I’m not your bestie, though I’m not opposed to being called that. I think I’ll redefine a friend as someone you can trust to be themselves. By themselves. Someone who doesn’t define the relationship by your shared weaknesses. Someone who knows they can’t control where any of this will go. Someone who won’t use me as an example. Someone who doesn’t want you just because they’re lonely.