Here's a core memory that lives in my head rent-free:
In 2nd grade, my best friend, also named Jorge, and I were inseparable. During recess, we'd run around the playground – tag, monkey bars, slides, you name it.
Kids tend to either be social butterflies or stick to a single close friend. He was the butterfly; I was the latter.
Even so, we hung out every recess.
But one day, something shifted. I caught up to him by the large tree in the center of the playground only to be pushed down and told, "We aren't friends anymore. Leave me alone."
Typical kid stuff, maybe. Friendships come and go at that age, but the sting remains. I sat by that tree and sobbed until a teacher practically forced him to apologize.
But that’s just during school age right?
Even now, I don't make many friends. But the ones I do make, I cherish. I text them constantly, check up on them, and try to be there for everything I can, even if the effort isn't always reciprocated.
But that’s okay. That’s what I’m here for, to help out wherever I can.
Losing friends is still hard. I overanalyze, wondering what I did wrong, even though the friendship may have just run its course.
For a long time, I blamed my mental illness. I called the people I lost "crutches" that helped me navigate the world. Without them, I'd fall apart – I relied on them for social cues, validation, and a listening ear. Losing them meant being alone with my thoughts.
Three years ago, I realized I was becoming addicted to people, much like a substance addiction. It wasn't the individual I was addicted to, but the feeling of attachment. Whether romantic or platonic, I'd get hooked. And when things ended, I'd crash hard, poor decision after poor decision trying to find someone I can lean on, no matter the cost.
Last time I was up in flames, I found a temporary crutch.
The cost was high.
They lived an hour away from me, but gas wasn’t the issue.
I would be told ‘Hey come do X drug with me’ and if I would try to argue otherwise, they’d threaten to replace me.
I did drug X, Y, Z, practically every letter of the alphabet. I even let them burn me with cigarettes because their smile brought me a twisted sense of happiness.
Because they were happy, I was happy…
Tragic end to a tragic tale, I did everything I was asked, and I was dropped after only a couple of months, because the charm behind me would eventually fade, and onto the next right?
I never got addicted to the substances, the burn marks faded, but even now I’m wondering what their life is like, and wishing they are doing well.
I realize this addiction will never go away.
This addiction will never go away. With every new friend, I double-text, follow up, and try everything to spend time with them, even if plans often fall through.
Usually I have a closing statement, a moral attached to this, but I’ve got nothing. This thought has been rattling around my head for the past few days, and I thought I’d finally jot it down.