The Constant in a Good Friendship

Hello.

It’s me. Talking to the person on the other side of the screen, on the other side of the time that has past from me posting this to you reading it now.

There is this girl. She wrote this blog post and I feel that it does have some really good points, even though I don’t have too much experiences with friends.

I didn’t have friends growing up.

I was a tad autistic. But not normal autism. It’s hard to really explain but it wasn’t what you are thinking now.

Long story short my social abilities did not start to develop until the later part of middle school.

I didn’t have any friends until that time. And what you would normally learn about friendships, I didn’t learn until later.

There was this girl. Let’s call her Prickina.

We were close, or so I thought.

Looking back now I see that it was not a friendship. She was mean; verbally and physically abusive. A horrible influence, and not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

After a year, I noticed her growing distant. And a couple of months later I found that the source of the various rumors about me came from her.

I didn’t know why she would do that, I was confused and alone again.

I had yet to learn that a good relationship, was like a conversation. You must give and receive equally. It isn’t one sided. Lying is a sign to hightail outta there. And when the other is irritable with everything you say or do, it’s not working.

I didn’t know these. So I stayed. And eventually, when she left, sat by myself wondering what I did wrong. But it was because I kept giving without asking for anything in return. She took advantage of me then left.

After that it took a while for me to make friends again. I wasn’t so keen on a relationship with anyone. Especially when they could possibly do what she did.

It didn’t help that at the time she left I was molested by a construction worker in my home. I didn’t have anyone to really vent or talk to about it.

It was like me being friendly, giving, or possibly just saying good morning to people somehow signals to them that I am someone they can take advantage of.

But I’m better now.

The scorn of relationships has faded a bit. A mutual friend of Prickina felt wrong for what she did. And though I can’t completely trust her to this day, I can call her my best friend.

I know it’s horrible of me, but I’m not sure if I can be as naive and trusting as I was. I think that I will always hold people at arms distance, even if they don’t know that.

Nevertheless, friends are good, and now when a relationship turns sour I can either throw it away or try to revive it.

Now I try to have as many friends as I can, but sometimes my past self comes out and I have a hard time opening up, like Panapo said in her post.

This is why I want to share this with the 21 people who read this blog.

I want people to know the warning signs of a bad relationship so they don’t have to go through what I have. And since I am still not capable and competent to give this advice, I think this post will enlighten people on what I can’t tell you all myself. I only wish I could share this knowledge with past me.

it also sounds like pineapple

When I used to live in garden grove I had a best friend named Min. The height of our friendship was during middle school, we would hang out as much as we could during the weekends,after school, in the summer.

I never really liked hanging out and so min had to forcibly convince me to go outside. Most times I would turn down the offer , seeing that missing a  pretty little liars episode was worth giving up a social life. But then there were times where I agreed and eventually we started hanging out a lot more often, and I have never regretted it once. We would go over to a close friend’s house, Alexis and the trio was united. We were really close to each other and sometimes we’d sneak out to our midnight swimming sessions in our apartment pool.

Min tied our friendship together so when she…

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I don’t like writing.

I don’t like writing. It doesn’t make me happy. It doesn’t do anything for me.

If anything, it makes me sad.

I don’t like people reading what I write. I don’t want them to even know that I write. I don’t like being judged. And if someone doesn’t like what I write, it makes me sad.

It makes me want to crawl into a shoe.

It makes me want to be reborn as a clam.

It makes me want to let rain fall from my eyes.

It makes me have a hot fiery ball of steel in my throat.

It makes me want to tie myself to a rocket ship and be flown into outer space where I can forget the people on earth.

It makes me feel like an ant after having returned from a long, and far journey to get food for my colony only to find it has been destroyed by humans.

My heart feels like it’s drowning in my eye-rain several hundred thousand feet down under the extreme pressure of the ocean they created.

To feel these things is very unpleasant.

I have a heart of ice. Not that it’s cold, but just a little heat makes it melt into a puddle of self loathing.

I have a very low self esteem. And I really hope it’s not my own fault. I want to blame others for it but I can’t. It’s my own fault for listening to these voices.

Voices from people I care about and respect hurt even more.

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Mommy refuses to admit her wrongness.

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Lying and stubbornness and pride.

All of them go hand and hand.

You have pride, but when you’re wrong your pride keeps you from admitting you’re wrong making you stubborn, so you lie in an attempt to convince people you are right.

It’s not a good thing at all though. Stalin was prideful, stubborn, and a liar. But we don’t want to compare ourselves to him.

But its okay! We all are at fault! All we need to to is acknowledge it! Otherwise you end up looking like my mom in this little story I’m about to tell you!

Once upon a time my mom was fighting with my uncle. Then she got so angry, she tore the home phone out of the wall, wires and all, and chucked it at him.

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Acronyms Suck

To honor acronyms I’m going to put as many as I can in here…

Lol.

Plus I’m going to type in text language. But don’t worry, I’ll keep it mild. (Not like people who text me!)

But like dude, I hate txts tht I can’t read. It’s hard when ppl replace words and leave some out. Ain’t nobody got time to decipher ur cryptic message. Is it tht hard to type ALL the letters?

Lazos… (Pronounced Lazy but replace the y with an o. Yeah it’s a word! It’s in my FICTIONARY!)

I also have a hard time keeping up with all the new ones… I know the basics! (I’m giving up of typing like people’s texts. It annoys me.)

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Writing About Yourself

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Hello. This is different from what I normally do. Today, you hear me speak— er type?

As you may or may not know, this blog consists of some stories and that ignorant list of what parents should or should not do to keep a happy family. Plus the several posts I deleted. Don’t worry though, they’ll come back from the post-graveyard. Anyways, this blog post will by why I haven’t posted a rant or anything from my point of view. None of my past posts contain the word “I” talking about myself the writer. And there is a reason for this.

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