Introverted Loving

I can hardly express how much love I have for my friends. Sometimes, it trickles out and you see it in the smallest of ways, if you’re careful to look. I love them quietly and consistently and sometimes I don’t realise it until it’s too late. My allegiance, once formed, can rarely be swayed.

When I was in high school, your friends were the people you spent the most time with and sometimes the only reason you became friends, and stayed friends, was the fact that you had to see each other every day and do homework together and sit next to each other and just be present in each others’ lives.

I could probably count my close friends on two hands. But to count the number of people I would gladly answer late night calls for and console in a time of grief or defend their good name for, I don’t have enough appendages for that. I think, subconsciously, I make a trade: if you add goodness to my life, you’ll have my care. It’s hard to explain.

I don’t know how I make friends. There are ones I don’t remember being apart from and ones that I grew with and then there are the ones that made a lot of noise. The loud ones are the ones I really can’t explain. They came into my life, breaking down doors and turning up all the neatly arranged traps and fail-safes and cautions. They were bashful and forward and honest and I was spellbound. I still am.

Here’s an anecdote:
I met a friend of mine and his best friend for lunch one day. And even though this was the second time I was meeting this best friend, he was still more stranger than acquaintance. So we chat over lunch and eat pasta and drink soda and, between all this, these two pick food off my plate. This was a complete and utter crossing of boundaries and so unacceptable. But I didn’t care because they were funny and open and honest and had me in stitches half the time anyway. The fact that they were comfortable enough to tease and eat my food and, later, invite me for movies, was enough to skip the mandatory pending-friendship phase that I put everyone through.

I don’t know about you but I don’t get to make “fast-friends” often, or at all, and when it does happen it’s because there was so much goodness there and I wanted in. And I never want to have to let go.

Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s