I was looking at old photos the other day, littered with friends and conversations I would quickly forget. “Friendship” was a dime a dozen. These relations were superficial but sufficient. They did the job. Company. Jokes. Conversation. But I remembered how empty and resentful I had felt. It was exhausting. Like trying to drink from dry ice, desperate and pointless.
Having maybe one or two solid relationships, on the other hand, is like drinking from a stream. It’s just, like, natural. I don’t even know how to describe it. I’d never felt so alone surrounded by people, and I’ve never felt so at peace with three people in my life. We’re all the same type of people, loners who love and lone together, and there is no other relationship more fulfilling than knowing that you’re someone else’s person – not even in a romantic context – and they’re yours.