friendship

When I got out of the mental hospital, I told two of my closest friends. This wasn't saying much, considering I'd isolated myself, but I felt the need to tell them after I had spent so much time telling my therapists how I had so many people there for me. "At least four friends," I said hurriedly, naming off people. We occasionally hung out; I texted her a few times; she sits with me at lunch; I don't think she even still cares. I smiled as I said their names, and I said, "Yes, of course. I'm very lucky to have so many people care about me."

I think even I started to believe it. When I got out, I told one of my closest friends. She said something about how she was just happy that I was out, and if I ever needed anything, bla bla bla. I got the courage around a month later and totally spilled my guts to her about the whole thing, why I cut myself, why I was going to kill myself, and she sat there in silence before changing the subject.

If you ever need anything. (Anything but a friend. Anything but someone there to listen. Anything but someone to soothe you. Think small. If you ever run out of sugar and need a cup for your cake--I'm there for ya!)

The other friend I told was someone I texted often. We were the 'outcasts', and we shared classes at the school. I sat with her at lunch every day, the whole year, and when I got back and told her, all she said was "well then." That's friendship.

They say that I shouldn't isolate myself off from the world. They say that I need to talk about my feelings before it gets to that "point" again. I'm willing to talk about it, but don't rush me. I'm willing to talk about it, but give me someone who actually listens. I can't do this. "Well then." I can't do this. "So, what about..."

I'm saying I can't do this alone.

I have tried for the longest time. It simply doesn't work anymore.