A Cowardly Friend

I am a cowardly friend,
afraid of disappointment and hope.

I am a slow burner,
afraid of loving so soon.

I am the analyst,
afraid of impulse, and life without note.

I will greedily ask to be loved first,
and I might leave you in the cold.
I will take too long to see your love,
but might you be my friend all the same?

I have not much to offer,
only a little consideration of sorts:

A thoughtful gift,
or a kind gesture –
quiet reminders I am thinking of you.

An unexpected call,
or short message –
mundane questions about your day.

A gentle nudge,
or uninvited advice –
my contributions to your happiness.

I am slow to love,
and quiet in care,
but forgive me,
could we be friends all the same?

So lately I’ve been overanalysing my life and causing myself all manners of unnecessary grief thinking about all the things that are “wrong” about me. All of the sudden, I started agonising over the things that are wrong about the way I treat the people around me, and the way I interact with people in general. I started questioning the way people saw me, whether I was too offensive or mean, whether my sarcasm might be taken the wrong way, whether people in fact can’t stand my annoying complaints about random things and in fact just put up with me out of politeness or fear of angering me.

I found myself asking “Why don’t people like me?” – who exactly these people are I’m not sure; I think I just wanted everyone to like me. I don’t even think it’s that I want to click with everyone I meet or be friends with everyone, I just.. I got scared that people who I wanted to like me wouldn’t like me. I started worrying that I didn’t know how to make friends, because honestly I have no idea how I have so many amazing friends. They all sort of just fell into my life, got stuck with me for some reason or other, and then somehow started to love me.

The thing is, I’ve realised that all this worrying (I even wrote a thousand word draft of another post explaining all the intricate details of my imperfections) really doesn’t change anything. Acting on any kind of self-depreciating wallowing really can’t result in anything of benefit to myself or my relationships with people in general. Nobody enjoys having a bundle of whiny self-loathing as a friend; I mean I just want to slap my friends when they get like that because I love them for a reason and that’s because they are who they are not anybody else. I remember a close friend once telling me that he hardly gets annoyed at friends for their crap because he knows they put up with his terrible moods and crappiness in return.

Honestly, I think maybe it’s alright to be a little bit selfish and crazy with friends because if I can love them despite their flaws, they probably love me back just the same; and if they don’t then I shouldn’t worry about it unless they are brave enough to say something, but if they do it probably means they care about me just a little :).

And maybe I won’t be able to be friends with everyone I want to be, but that’s alright as well because maybe it’s not me; maybe that’s just life. Maybe I don’t needn’t care so much about being the nicest person around, because I’ve always managed to find a way to show my love in other ways. Maybe I just need to remember the things that I’m good at. I am A Cowardly Friend, but I do try think and care for my friends and maybe that’s all there is to it. Maybe I’ll just have to make friends in a mundane way. Maybe I’ll have to make friends slowly, but they’ll be long lasting friendships and I don’t need much else.

I’m ordinary and that’s okay. We’re all kind of ordinary but in exceptional ways.

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One comment

  1. […] A Cowardly Friend (timidwritings.wordpress.com) […]

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