I miss my friends. I miss all of them, at the same time. I miss the ease with which we used to hang out. But, I suppose things always fall apart in the end, don't they? Maybe this is why I used to place myself on the outskirts of so many different social groups- because somehow I knew the group I found myself with most would fall apart, and I would need another one to pick myself back up. Maybe that's one of those wicked personality traits you get being the child of divorced parents. I had always thought I'd avoided any sort of psychological damage from my parents divorce, but a lack of trust that relationships won't fall apart? The ease in which I simply phase people out of my life, with an unconscious effort? Could these be the far reaching effects of being the witness to my parents volatile relationship? Could I have developed this strange self-defense mechanism that caused me to distance myself from relationships I knew would fall apart?
Years after we'd known each other, after we'd identified one another as best friends, Emily told me she didn't actually know much about me. I'd like to think she knows a bit more about me now, but thinking about all my friends, who really knows that much about me? Inside and out? Sam has known me for years, we've shared our childhood, but been apart most of our adult life. She knows the person I used to be, but I doubt she knows the person I am today; at least, not well. Meghan knows me fairly well, due to my mom and having seen my family life first-hand. And then Emily probably has the best idea of my character, due both to our friendship and her strangely perceptive mind. But, in all of these scenarios, its not the fact that I let my guard down that gave my friends this insight, its a shared past or experience, learning through trial rather than communication.
It's been my biggest difficulty in pursuing an education in the performing arts. Even for someone interested in acting, which may seem silly to some; though it seems like an outlet to escape being yourself (and it can be) you're also leaving yourself bare. You're giving up the walls you create when you perform, boring holes in it to allow people to see something real in the facade you're creating. I remember in Fundamentals of Acting we were tasked with performing a monologue, one we were to write ourselves. I could have done the easy thing and just wrote a funny one- as a matter of fact, it's probably what I should have done- but instead, I wrote a monologue about being abandoned by one of my best friends, Jake. I thought it would be a simple thing to give the monologue in front of everyone. I had the lines memorized, but I hadn't realized how hard it would be to convey this feeling of abandonment in front of my classmates. I stared at the floor and avoided their gazes, as if that would spare me from their judgement.
I'm not sure if anybody actually judged, though. At least, not maliciously. Perhaps it was because we all had to do the same thing, we all had to bare our souls before our classmates. We could empathize with the feeling of discomfort we all felt. Maybe all it takes is a bit of empathy to nullify your own, personal judgement. Artists play at CCH all the time, some of them great, others... less so. But, regardless of their performance, I'm always impressed with and envy their ability to be on stage, to be brave enough to face the crowd. I imagine even those that don't look nervous are far more fearful than they let on. I would be.
Returning to the point at hand, these walls I've built have kept me confined from my friends. I speak my mind when it doesn't pertain to me, when it's not revealing anything about myself. Luke needs some advice on something personal? I'll give him the answer I think is the best course of action. Somebody asks, "How are you feeling, Timmy?" I say, "Oh, I feel fine," regardless of what I'm feeling. Is it wrong to do that to your friends? To block them out of your personal life, when they continue to let you in? The longer I get to know someone, the thicker the walls get. The closer I get to someone, the more indifferent I act around them, when in truth I love them very much. All my friends- the ones I long abandoned, and the ones who long abandoned me, and the ones who stick around today. But I love them at arms length, too uncomfortable with myself to let someone else in my head. I don't let people know how I'm feeling, when all I need is someone to talk to.
My insecurity is my enemy. I am my own worst enemy.
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