Pride gets in the way

I love my friends, and I will do almost, perhaps, practically anything to help them.

You can blame that on the desperation, the feeling that for the past years or so, I never really had anybody to lean on. The family's always there, or so society dictates, but there are just some things that you cannot discuss with them, especially in a world where you can't trust anyone. You just need someone else that can see things for you.

Maybe there's that, then, and maybe there's exasperation over why people treat you differently. There are groups, and there are those who go in between them, or in a more negative mindset, those who are left behind. I never really had groups; somehow I never related entirely with a certain experience, and although I got by most of the time, I still felt something was missing. Either it's just society dictating my tastes again, or I felt I deserved more.

I did find them, and they were the people I overlooked, to the people that were there for the longest time, to the people who I took a liking too and decided to just let up with my uncontrolled attachments. Maybe that was the problem - attachments got people scared, attachments drove them away. For others, though, my touchy tendencies were just right, and whatever insight they supposedly gained from me, I appreciate. And we hold on to each other in a different way, like what we were always supposed to do.

That should also explain why I despair over the smallest mistakes, when it feels like arguments caused by either impulse or something more compelling would break everything apart. I wouldn't talk, and I wouldn't apologize, for I'd let my pride get in the way, but - and this is probably the worst justification ever - I'll still hope for the best, insist my point, and worry about what was lost. We'll probably wait six months before everything is forgotten, and things would've been broken up anyway, but I can't help but pander to something more superficial.

You know I still claim that I'd do anything to keep the friendship alive, cynicism-tinged intentions or otherwise. And, along with that, I claim that if you make a crucial mistake and refuse to keep tabs on it, I can easily pretend that our friendship never existed.

As ironic as this sounds, considering how hard I find moving on, I can easily pretend. Perhaps, easily forget is a better term, an easy cut-off of communications or an easier snubbing of any attempt to reconnect, and then things will be quiet, and I can move on and find new people, or return to those I've overlooked, and see that there are so many people out there than can do better, and be reminded that I deserve better, like everybody says.

In the end, you apologize and say it's you who's wrong all along, not me.

But, after all is said and done, or forgotten and undone, however clich├ęd that sounds, pride gets in the way. The only thing I'll ask you to do is to prove your sincerity.

And your responses...

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