Why is it so hard to call someone my best friend?
I love you but I can’t seem to be able to say it
Think of the time you were sitting across from someone and felt truly known. Deeply understood. Maybe, it was because your friend was laughing carefreely at your jokes or you were laughing at hers. You were so comfortable you took your chances with what were seemingly inane comments and those chances tickled you both. You’re calm, your blood pressure is normal, you’re flushed with joy — there is ease. She reminded you of the time you did something stupid but reassured you that your secret is safe with her. You exchanged some updates about your life, and she listened so attentively, questioned so ardently that you felt grateful that she thinks you were worthy of her time. You delved into your favourite topics punctuated with that jolly agreement. The energy — contagious. You may have felt a deep sense of love and admiration for her, for all that she has been to you, and for all the jokes that only belong to the both of you.
Nourishing, right?
Do you have a picture of her in your head? Yeah, I do too but I can’t tell her because then she’s a little full of herself but hey, aren’t we all? It’s okay nobody needs to know.
Do you have a best friend? That one person who knows everything about you. That one person who has seen you jump from phase to phase, boy to boy, girl to girl.
I know I don’t.
Friendship is such a banal term to describe human relationships. Everyone who isn’t family and who you’re not romantically involved with is a …friend?
The girl you met twelve years ago to the girl you met 3 weeks back who bonded with you over a *insert 3-piece obscure Australian band’s name* that you think only both of you know about — friends.
I’ve come to the sad conclusion that people stick together only when there is a strong and coercive sticky force that makes the separation heavily cumbersome and that there are only two interpersonal relationships in the world that possess the said strong and coercive sticky force — marital and parent-child.
Marriages are kept together by legal, financial, and societal pressures while filial relationships succeed because of our biological programming.
We are social animals — we thrive because of our social networks. We are likely to live longer because of our social networks
I love my friends. It is different because it is a love I choose to give away. People talk about how blood is thicker than water, but there is something special about conditional love because you choose it each time, every day. You choose to be there for this person who knew you only because you happened to be at the same place one fine day, and you decided that you will share your finite life with them
There’s a powerful relationship between the characteristics of your social network and your mental and physical health, your longevity, and your general life satisfaction. Way back in the knife-edge environments of our evolutionary past, having a strong social network was essential to survival, and there are still areas of the world today where having the help and support of others is the difference between life and death.
There is a weird idea that you are supposed to get everything from your romantic relationship, but I realise that what I want from a relationship was really a close, daily friendship.
It’s been so hard for me to say you’re my best friend because it makes me feel that I’m emotionally naked and that if I said it aloud and the friendship were to go sour, I would just sink in my place, so I don’t say.
Afterall, it’s less embarrassing to sink when you’re alone kicking fervently to get your head above the water, and I would like to save the embarrassment.
The beauty of a long-lasting friendship is that you are never tied down, you can always leave. There are no prenups, no custody, no children, and no alimonies. It’s just the two of you sticking together because of mutual admiration that never runs out.
As the word bestie frequents its way to our daily lexicon, I lament the dilution, but I also feel relieved that there are a lot of people in the world who share my insecurity when it comes to aptly verbalising feelings. I see you, bestie.
As it rains heavily in my little city, I am thinking of all the people I love so much but won’t tell because of my inability to say anything emotional coherently. There’s smart stuff in my head, it’s on my tongue but as it leaves my person, it sounds like absolute gibberish.
