The Happy Stuff Are What Friends Are Made Of

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Nowadays my phone has a use beyond trawling forums and moaning on a pseudo-twitter account. Now my contract doesn’t seem like such a waste of money. I would phone Wifey, but it was most often small conversations organising where we would be meeting, or having a 5-minute catch up on my way home from somewhere.

I’m not really talking about my phone though. I’m talking about an absence of human contact, and ultimately, friends. At many times during my illness did I isolate and want nothing more than to be alone, but the contrasting fact is that I needed friends. I needed someone other than wifey to be silly with. I needed human connection to help me realise that not all people are bad.

Not everyone is going to try and manipulate me, or fuck me over, or lie to me to try and twist my already skewed reality for me. Not everyone is a snake. Not everyone is out to get me, nor are they trying to set me up for failure to prove their own selves right. Yes, some people do these things, but not all people.

For the one or two friendships I maintained throughout the worst of my illness it was hard to not put these scarred feelings onto our relationship. The main learning point is accepting that not everyone is like that, and learning to trust again. In order to learn that, I needed someone to prove me wrong: a volunteering organiser, a social worker, a doctor, and someone who’s job it wasn’t, who by a kind act here and there, out of pure free will proved my existing truths to be wrong.

I needed someone to send silly pictures to, someone to text when I’m happy as well as sad. I needed someone to rave with, and rant with. I needed someone to idly smoke cigarettes with. I needed a friend or two. Not many, just a small few to share my life with.

Now I am a bit better and I have been able to re-connect with people. I attend college where I’ve made friends. I go to the pub from time to time with another, and drink wine with another. Like I said, I only desire just a small few.

I am grateful for my friends, and thankful for finally finding a few people who I can be myself around, who I enjoy spending time with, and who make me smile. I am also grateful for those who stuck by me as a friend when I was unwell: who visited me when I was in hospital, or sent me a little text here, and invited me to the pub there.

So, to my friends, for being my friends, thank you. You’ve changed my belief in all of man kind. We’re not all so bad after all.

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