I've been thinking about friendship a lot lately, realizing that the friends I've made since moving to Los Angeles, especially those that were made after Leslie passed away, are not people that I'm friends with now.
Lately, it's what keeps me up at night. Ok, not really, but I do ruminate torture myself and replay the oldest scenarios known to man, trying to figure out what went wrong.
I certainly hold myself accountable, (probably more so in most instances), but the commonality with the break-ups is that the other person does not.
The unfortunate circumstances causing an end to each friendship had me as the bad guy, the one to blame. In each instance, I put myself into the uncomfortable position of saying something when the shit went down, on the phone and/or face to face even if the other person chose to communicate via email and/or text.
In my grieving state, I shouldn't have been trying to embark on new relationships, I see that now. I also recognize that I probably would not have chosen to befriend these women if I wasn't in such a despondent state. It's clear to me that there was much to be desired with our coming together, it doesn't surprise me, (and I shouldn't torture myself), because their purpose in my life was short-lived.
In my grieving state, I shouldn't have been trying to embark on new relationships, I see that now. I also recognize that I probably would not have chosen to befriend these women if I wasn't in such a despondent state. It's clear to me that there was much to be desired with our coming together, it doesn't surprise me, (and I shouldn't torture myself), because their purpose in my life was short-lived.
No comments:
Post a Comment