You can thank my iPhone for my post today.
While driving to work this morning I was trying to type “Friend” in my phone, but instead I typed “Fiend”. After thinking about it for a few minutes I started realizing how close those two words are and how vastly different their meanings. Friends are the most useful, most valuable and needed part of my life, and a lot of others as well. Friends are supposed to be there for you regardless of the situation. The best of friends are the friends you can lean on and never have to worry about “owing” them for it. I have three friends like that; they are the ones that you can go to for anything, about anything, for any reason and know that, without any hesitancy, they will be there to catch you when you fall. These people are very important. Sometimes I worry about how good of a friend I am to others. I feel like I would stop whatever I was doing at the drop of a hat to be there for anyone. I remember, a long while ago, when I was dating someone who is now nothing but a distant memory, he questioned me all the time for my generosity. I would, without really thinking, offer to help people and offer to be there for anyone. He thought it was strange; I thought it was honest.
There are also friends who are fiends. They make themselves up in a guise of friendship to only get what they can out of you. They suck you, emotionally, physically, mentally, of all that you’re worth and nothing that you do will amount to anything to them. Despite all your efforts to show you care, it’s not good enough and nothing you ever do. Aside from devote every waking moment to them there will be nothing that you can do to satisfy them. If they could move mountains, they’d squash you with them.
There are also the fiends who just like to placate you with their little angelic smiles of friendship, but behind that faux smile is a fiery lake of ash filled with disdain towards you. They play you quite coy, really, in how they behave, and lull you into a false sense of security. These people are also the people who tend to wallow in gossip and drama; they bend your ear, provide a shoulder, and expect that in return you devote every waking bit of energy you have towards them. It’s really not fair, honestly, how they break you afterwards. You have to give them everything or you’re considered vile.
What I do love, though, are the people that love you just for you. I’m a crazy, nonsensical person who finds beauty in the most random of things. There are so many things out there that I find absolutely breathtaking. I’m the first to admit that I’m insane, board line clinical in fact, and crazy about a lot of random things in my life. I’m awkwardly forward coupled with a cunningly sharp tongue, which is a deadly combination and has gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past. But, it’s absolutely me. I’m worried, and I fear indefinitely, that one day the people I love are going to get annoyed with my, admittedly, sometimes over embellished love of things and my insistent need to vocalize what I see or feel.
Sometimes I wish I were a little girl again, where nothing really mattered except whether or not it was raining outside, because that was the deciding factor for my afternoon activities. I wish I were getting yelled at for riding on my best friends handlebars around the cul-de-sac knowing that there was a very real chance that we would crash and burn. I miss my childhood friends and the innocence associated with youth. Sometimes, I sit patiently with my eyes closed remembering the beach with my grandparents and the long walks down to the peer with my Nonnie after dinner. How, no matter how much she threatened punishment, I’d always manage to get “accidentally” caught by the crashing waves as they came running up the shoreline, and the smile she’d give me when I toppled my way out of the waves soaking wet. At times I can still smell the summer air that I spent dancing through the open fields with a mason jar full of lightening bugs under a violet, speckled blanket of innocent stars shinning down and a friendly smile from the vanilla crusted moon above. Friends were friends because they loved you; family was patient with you because you were too small to know any better and your ability to dream avidly was not only accepted, but encouraged.
Things only get complicated as you age; there are so many things that you’re required to care about, because if you don’t you’re a monster or a sloth. You have to care about what you say to people, what you do with people, who you associate yourself with. You have to learn to differentiate between friend and fiend, because the fiends of age are much more detrimental to every aspect of your life than the fiends of youth. Befriend a fiend and you may suffer an inaudible amount of self torture as you have to learn to pacify their incessant need for your every offered bit of energy. I wish I could go back to my youth, when there was innocence in friendships and innocence in life itself. Honestly, what this really amounts to is that I really miss my Nonnie more than anything in the world. I wish I could have her back.