It’s interesting how being alone, or at least feeling alone (in my small world) isn’t easy to swallow. I guess that’s what it’s like to be a loner. When I wake up in the mornings and although it looks cold and hopeless, I know I’ll learn something that day whether it’s good or bad. When I arrive on campus, I look forward to seeing some people I enjoy being around. But no matter how much they say they are my friends, I’m insecure about whether they are or not.
My days aren’t so neurotic as they may sound. I do try my best to blend in with my “friends.” When they move away or talk among themselves I sit there next to them and try to think of something to say to them as they continue to talk to each other. When I do say something, it’s either stupid or a question. The reason I don’t say anything else is because it doesn’t seem to be interesting. I don’t understand why the things I know are not interesting. Sometimes, I wonder if I am important. Sometimes I wonder if I crossed over to the other side of life.
What I mean is I wonder if I’ve met the bad side or the good side in me has turned bad. I knew that religiously, a human being has to be good and such, but is it really worth it when you are not recognized in this world for it? I’ve tried to be good, but I can’t see how it helps in the long-run. When I think that it’s okay for me to be a good, generous, kind and thoughtful person so that people can like me, I really don’t. Especially when I see people aren’t going to like me anyway. Because of my kindness, I find out later that people I think are my friends have taken advantage of that or have used me.
When they say kill them with kindness, I think its killing me instead. And what I really dislike the most is, when people aren’t there when I need them. This character trait has bugged me since the fifth-grade, yet I ignored it and trusted people anyway. Now when I hang out withmy friends I only listen. I’ve always been the listener and rarely the speaker. I feel that I’d be a mute if it weren’t for music, my family, and some old friends (who have now fallen into the real world).
As I sit in between my “friends'” in Manipal, I wonder if they’ll ask me about my weekend, some do. Every week I sit and talk to this one girl before her class starts. I do consider her my friend, because she does take time to ask what happens lo me. I ask her about her day and she asks me about mine. I notice it’s easier to talk to her than anyone else. Don’t ever take a real friend for granted, I mean if someone comes along and sits with you, listen and at least appreciate it. Those that say “A real friend is a hard thing to find,” they are absolutely right.