Once upon a time, I didn't believe in the concept of best friends. In my opinion, once I say someone is my best friend, something will fuck it up. Or someone. Even when it comes to friends, I merely see them as someone to talk to and giggle with. Or ask for help to teach something and vice versa.
Hell, I even got 2nd place in a national level poem writing competition at 15. Yes, still a source of gloating. If only I can find that newspaper clipping and scan it to show y'all.
Going back to the topic, one thing I didn't do was sharing my problems. And like every teenager, I had problems. Some common ones. Some unique ones.
"But hey, aren't friends for crying and laughing too?"
I don't believe in that. Not that I'm a bitch that won't listen to your problems. I will. I do. Just that most of you, well, my friends won't give me more than 5 mins to listen to mine. If they do, I'll see that eye-roll, that "god, when will she stop?" look, the distracted look and so on.
What do I do?
I'll shut up.
I'll smile and say thank you.
I'll tell them how I appreciate it and that I'll be there for them.
I'll tell myself to never share my problems with anyone again.
Can there something worse? Yes. Sometimes, as a decent human being, we have to help our friend see what they did wrong. Their part of the blame. Often, there's two ways that people go with for this.
A) They'll ask and probe, letting the friend to look back and see how things really are.
B) They'll be pushing the fact that their friend were immature/hasty/whatever shit and basically, appointing themself as some kind of prosecutor against their own friend.
I've seen A. I've been the asker. I've been asked. For B somehow, it pisses me off like a baby panda having its bamboo shoots taken away from it. It makes me think:
"Who's friend are you?"
Well, not that G-rated. But you get me, right?
Vindicated, I'am wrong, I'am right,
I swear I'm right, I swear I knew it all along,
That sums up how I feel whenever a friend goes all Situation B on me. Anger. Shock. Betrayal. Sadness. Being emotional me, I'll cry. Not in front of people. I rarely cry in front of others. I don't like sharing my problems, let alone my tears.
There will be a battle of "Yes, she's right about it" and "What a fucking-" in my mind. And what
do I do? I'll tell myself to bite on my tongue before telling the friend another problem. I'll rather suffer in silence. And listen to their problems.
Over the past few years, since starting university, I've grown more open. More accepting of this friendship thing. More trusting. Verdict? I've gotten more friends. Some close, some casual. But sometimes, I wish I'm still back in school, looking at friendships with a cynical eye.
I'm still suffering in silence. With a mental list of friends not to share problems with.
Laugh and the world will laugh with you. Cry and you're all alone.