The View from 58-inches High

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my connections with others. I suppose I mean friendships, though that word doesn’t really seem right. I don’t think I’ve ever had “friendships” in the traditional sense. I’m not willing to make the effort to conform my life to somebody else’s. I have acquaintances. I do things with people who appreciate the same things I do. If they didn’t, I wouldn’t spend time with them. That sounds so cold to say but it’s how I’ve been my whole life. I am more than willing to let people disappear from my life if they don’t fit.

It’s strange the way it happens. I’ll just stop calling people that seemed so close to me. One day I just can’t think of anything to talk about. Or worse, I start to find everything they say uninteresting, trite, or meaningless. There seems to be no pattern that could possibly predict the outcome. It’s as if I wake up one morning and see then differently. From that day on, it’s never the same.

Even with my parents there was a day that all I could see was my how insecure, gullible, and lonely my mom was or how feeble and over-compensating my dad was. It has to be this way I’m sure; part of the process to wean us from our childhoods. I never expected it would continue though out adult lives.

I also think it’s too easy for friends to take advantage of the relationship. Friends can be bullies, manipulators, and even downright abusive at times. I used to accept it because I didn’t want to fight, or anger people. I didn’t want to disappoint my “friend”. I’m over that. I’ve realized that if you let them, they will slip away without every trying to save the relationship. So many times it’s just better that way.