Perpetual Smile

I have had many best friends.

The first was Emily, in kindergarten. We talked on the phone.

The second was Elizabeth, in second grade. Then I met Jackie, Desi, and Miranda, and in third grade the four of us were sort of inseparable.

In fourth grade, I met Vanessa. We were best friends all the way up until 8th grade. Even when she moved to Panama during our 5th and 6th grade years, we still kept in touch, and when she came back to Connecticut, we continued to stay in touch. We were best friends again in 8th grade, but lost touch during high school.

The summer before 8th grade, it was Leugim.

During 8th grade, it was me, Vanessa, Jessica, Reshma, and Sandra.

My freshman year of high school, it was Lauren and Ryan, interchangeably. When sophomore year came, I met Sandy. We were best friends up until maybe a year or so ago.

Now I consider the cat my best friend. Or Mike, depending on how the day is going.

I scroll through Facebook status updates and Facebook pages, read old journal and blog entries, cycle through memories. Each of these people were once a huge part of my life, but they aren’t anymore. And I don’t get it.

I don’t get why I can’t seem to hold on to anyone that I care about. I don’t get why the relationships I think are precious to me end up not being precious to the other person. I don’t get why distance, time, and differences ebb away the closeness that once was. I don’t get the petty backstabbing. I don’t get why I move through life like a ghost, passing by people but never sticking to them. I once thought that it wasn’t me, that it was them, but maybe it really is me.

I think about inviting these old friends out for a cup of coffee or some lunch. I can see us sitting at a table, catching up, sharing the years that passed without a word over an hour or so. A simple message over Facebook could arrange this. But then I hesitate. What if we don’t have anything in common anymore? Or even worse: what if they say no?

Then the moment passes and I feel like an idiot. Normal people don’t cling to the past. Normal people move on through the future. Normal people make new friends.

I am not normal. I don’t make friends. Everyone I ever knew or cared about just drifts away. And I find that I have to look at myself, very closely. I once thought I was a good person, that I was a great friend — the kind who would bend over backward for my friends. I thought that I was fun to hang out with, that I was interesting enough to keep around.

More and more, I feel like a hermit. I fear that I will be alone. I fear that these friends from the past don’t think of me anymore. Maybe I meant nothing to them. Maybe I will never mean anything again.

Is this normal? Or should I just suck it up?

Read my Batman/Harley fan fiction! Harley Quinn decides she’s tired of Joker’s bullshit and decides to take revenge…

I’ve always had a hard time making and hanging onto friends. I’m not sure why. I’m (perhaps stupidly) the kind of person who will bend over backward for those I care about — and often for people I barely know. I love pretty much everyone, unless you’re a douchebag. Then I won’t waste my time.

I consider myself a warm, honest, open, and friendly person, albeit a little (lot) shy. I’m sure when I finally get to meet some of my favorite bloggy people, I will most likely spend the first hour or two quietly taking in everything before I say much of anything. During outings, people say I’m quiet but that I’m “something.”

I can be witty. I like to do stuff like rent random movies, spend a night in, go out for karaoke, watch cheesy shows like Instant Star and enjoy it, and I can keep secrets. I can also tell my own secrets, if we’re close enough.

I think I’m a pretty good friend, if only I had more than like two.

There’s Jillian, whom I worked with at FYE “back in the day.” We became fast friends. We could be best friends. We just don’t hang out enough. She recently moved to New York and then moved back, which helped with the hanging out. We have a lot of fun when we’re together. I’ve never had a reason not to like her. She loves Stephen King and drools over Julian McMahon. There are always good times to be had when Jillian and I get together. She gets me, and I can be completely myself around her. (Read: totally goofy and insane.)

Then there are my friends from high school, the ones I hung out with a lot the first year or so after graduation. Now? We barely speak. There’s Joe, whom I went to dinner with a month or so ago. There’s John, who I haven’t seen in over a year (but we still talk on Facebook occasionally). These two stick out the most, only because I developed friendships with them beyond just hanging out and laughing. The problem with them is that we’re all freaking busy. They’re both in university, living their own lives. So much time has gone by that we’ve become old acquaintances. Ghosts who still appreciate each other but have too much to do to make the time to get together.

Then there’s Nikki. Again with the busy. She goes to Southern, and while I went there we saw a lot more of each other. Again, we could be best friends, but for some reason it doesn’t go all the way. We have lots of common interests, but live different lives. I can talk to Nikki about ANYTHING, and she never judges me.

Michael, Lauren (my sister), and my Aunt Rikki are the closest people I have. They aren’t friends in the sense that they aren’t related to me or madly in love with me (because of voodoo), though. And Mike? Is not a girl.

I had a best friend, once. I thought I could tell this person anything, could trust her completely. Over and over, she demonstrated that no, she could not be trusted. I kept giving her chance after chance, and that’s probably where I went wrong. I’m a sucker, because she was my only truly close friend and most likely knew that no matter what she did, I would always forgive her.

And yet, in the aftermath of the biggest deception she has ever pulled on me, I still find myself missing her. I have been dreaming about her. (And not in a dirty way, so you guys can all stop the hawt girlsex fantasies now.) Sometimes, I admittedly even pull up her Facebook to see her statuses to make sure she is okay. And why? I don’t know. Because I truly, truly love her, even after she has hurt me time and again.

Even after all of the bullshit, I still want to call her up, tell her I miss her, and get together for a rented movie. Is it because of the history? Is it because we went through the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows at one time together? I don’t even feel this way about my ex-boyfriend, who I thought was my first love back when I dated him. (I know now that Michael is that first, true love.) I shared a lot with that asshole, and even though I occasionally wonder how he is doing (even though he is a big, fat, wet douchebag), it doesn’t go much beyond that. I definitely don’t dream about him, and he definitely doesn’t occupy my thoughts all day!

A few weeks ago, I told this girl (my old best friend) that I really, truly love her and her kids and would do anything for them. Part of me feels guilty, because that anything doesn’t include being walked all over, talked about behind my back, and having deep, personal things about me shared without my knowledge or consent. I was so angry when I first discovered her treachery, that I couldn’t even think about it without shaking. Mainly I was angry because she would most certainly not want the same thing done to her. Only three people on this Earth knew before she went flapping her mouth, and I only found out that she had told someone because, hello, I found it on her blog. (So not only was she telling people she and I knew, but it was also publicly all over the fucking internet. BEA-UTIFUL.)

Getting pissed all over again.

AND I still miss her.

Am I a masochist or what?

I think part of the reason I kept going back to her was because, honestly, she was my only girl friend. She was the only person I have ever been that close to. We shared so much in the six or more years we’ve been friends that it feels like I’ve lost a limb. And yet, with everything else in my world slipping through my fingers, I can’t allow anyone to abuse me. I can’t allow her to continue to treat me like nothing while I do everything for her without a second thought.

And believe me, I have tried explaining to her how I feel over and over again. Even when I told her that I don’t want to talk to her anymore because of what she did, she still didn’t get it. She said something to the effect of, “There’s more to the story but you wouldn’t want to hear it.” So, there’s more to the story involving her telling people something I wouldn’t want them to know? Something SHE wouldn’t want them to know? I don’t care what the “story” is — she told something about me that she knew I didn’t want anyone to know. Hell, SHE didn’t even want to talk about it ever again! So, hypocrisy is the name of the game here, and since I caught her out, she still had to try and justify it. There IS no justification; had I done the same to her, she would never forgive me. I know exactly what happened and why she told who she told, and that makes it even more sickening.

BUT.

There’s no point in me wasting my time. I am sad because I have lost a friend. It would be nice to have this friendship now, when I most need someone who understands and knows me completely. It would be nice to be able to sit outside with her, drinking cold beer and chainsmoking, while I tell her how I’m feeling, how scared I am, how much I don’t want to lose my grandfather. It would be nice to spend part of the holidays with her and her kids, watch them open their gifts and the way their eyes sparkle.

The kids. Don’t even bring me to the kids. I feel so guilty that I have stopped talking to her, because I also love those kids. But, as horrible as it sounds, I can’t be there for them, doing everything for them, while she walks all over me. I honestly can’t even stand to be around her. It would make me sick to my stomach to look in the face of someone I once trusted, someone who told a personal secret just to impress a guy.

Because that’s what it comes down to — impressing a guy who did horrible things to her over and over. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

So, at the same time I grieve the loss of my good health, and the suffering of and impending loss of my grandfather, I grieve the loss of a sisterhood.

A friend.

I just found out that my friend Liane from high school passed away this weekend. I was uploading the photos for the week at work and saw her picture. I didn’t want to believe it was her, so I hunted for the article. I didn’t really have to do much hunting; it was on the front page of Rep-Am.com. I still didn’t want to believe it was her, but then Sandy called and confirmed. I’m having a hard time not crying here at work. This really sucks. The last time I saw Liane, when I was working at Toys R Us, she was buying stuff for her baby. She was really happy and really in love with her daughter. I remember telling someone — probably Mike — that I was really happy that she was happy. She looked good, too.

I am trying to track down information for arrangements. I guess they are being held this week at St. Michael’s Church. The people there are going to email me when they know the details. I am going to try like hell to go; Sandy and I are friends with all of Liane’s friends (we’re mutual friends with Everett and Lena, Sandy is friends with Liane’s boyfriend Jeremy, and I’m friends with mutual old boyfriend slash good friend Sean).

I can’t wrap my head around this. It seems like just yesterday we were in high school together, hanging out in the stadium smoking cigarettes — among other things, heh — waiting for the first bell to ring. It feels like just yesterday I saw her, all grown up and happy to be a mom. We weren’t real close, but I still have a lot of good memories with her. Like my sophomore year. She and Lena publicly announced that they were dating, and started a whole lesbian revolution in our high school. Because of them, every girl claimed to be either a lesbian or bisexual. Thanks to them, I was able to figure out my own sexuality. I also have goofy memories of hanging out in the parking lot before school with her, mainly smoking and of course Kurt Cobain’s anniversary (Lena loves Kurt Cobain). She was a great person and we’re all going to miss her.

I think I’m sort of in denial, though. I mean, your friends aren’t supposed to die. Not this young, anyway. She was just getting her life started and back on track. I don’t even know what to say anymore. I’m just so sad.