Monday, 29 August 2011

Things lost, things gained.

I've learnt a lot of lessons about friendship, over the years where I truly believed myself worthy of only the 'friendship' of disorder. Sometimes friendships end and that's fine, it really is. Sometimes the end of a friendship is to be mourned, sometimes you just have to be glad for there was and know that you still have someone you could have a 5 minute chat with if you bumped into them in the supermarket, even if the real friendship is gone. The worst though, the ones that I feel cheated over, are the ones that ended down to the chaos of the disorder. The nights cancelled because I couldn't leave my house, peal myself from my bedroom floor. The days cancelled to be spent between the toilet and the scales. It's not that I resent the people, because there are two halves to a friendship and for years I struggled to maintain my half. But I'm resentful of the end, friendships too intense. That I can't just have the regular girly relationships, where you complain about boy problems and watch shitty films- the problems I've created for myself eclipse anything external, I suppose. I feel ancient compared to so many people my age. And I know, I'm aware that this is more my fault than anything, this isn't me self-pitying, this is me resenting the disorder for another thing taken. If only it was just about a bit of an extreme diet, eh?

Separate to this, something I never even thought about. Hurting me, angering me now, is what I think I've learnt this weekend about some- the people who used me to show their heroism, to do their bit for charity, whatever. To brag about their good deeds and to put down the people I love, to passively attack the ones I know love me, when they were hurting themselves over my being in hospital. The people who say that they will be there, but then never come through when they need to. The friendships that, at the risk of sounding overly harsh, are lies.

But then on the other hand, it's alright... I know who my friends are. I am in absolute no doubt as to who I can truly trust and who I know won't be angry or resentful themselves, on those times when I need carrying. And I suppose that's one thing gained, for all the others lost; I know everybody says it, but I seriously have the best friends. The illness weeds out those who can't cope, the ones who can't be your closest support and again that's not something I could ever, ever resent people for- people should be obliged not to, yanno, be cunts and that, but I'd hate somebody to feel obliged to be my friend, just because I am, I have been, ill. I just wish it was so simple, though. That people would walk away, rather than... Humph!

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