For some reason I had a good think about all the people I've met over the past few years.

Inevitably, I'm not in touch with most of them. There are just a lot of them. (And I don't have as many "friends" as the others.) But I'd see a few of them now and then - online, of course - and I'd notice that our interests don't exactly match.

Not anymore, perhaps. And sure, it's possible that in all the years that passed we have drifted apart. Nothing new. (Nothing I want to happen, but still, nothing new.) But what if we never really had that much in common in the first place? How come we had friendly relations with each other?

I've always liked to think that I am fairly independent. I have my own set of interests, my own set of preferences, you get my drift. But after another bout of overthinking I realized that my interests aren't exactly my own. For the most part, it's something that I've adopted because my crowd at the time were into it.

I wasn't really much of a film buff until I began hanging out with Jason and Cuyeg more, in part because we worked on our thesis together, and in part because we took more or less the same classes. Jason, particularly, has seen all these artsy films, and I haven't, until I had to for school.

A few years earlier Jason introduced me to Issa, and she hooked me up with my appreciation of the late Rilo Kiley. Sure, this was when I was starting to find my way through the British indie side of things, but a part of me would really like to think of her as the enabler, for lack of a better term. Same with Alyssa and Muse. When I found out she loved the band I sort of use it ti start some conversations with her, or something. (It's not meant to sound that desperate. Trust me.)

With the mostly-forgotten biters, it was a long-dormant love of 80s music and an optimistic mindset - heaven knows how foolish I sounded when talking about romance there, especially in hindsight, now that you've factored in how shitty it all ended.

When I started working... let's just say I became more of a pop-loving kind of guy. I wasn't resisting, but I found myself buying more Glee CDs. Suddenly I was the guy who knew a bit about television. And I didn't watch a lot of television when I was still in college. I even found myself looking through magazine stores for old issues of Elle.

Like my preference for coffee shops other than Starbucks.

Like those conversations I remember having at one point, knowing I've never had those before that point.

So, what exactly is up? I'm not exactly the most independent of persons, I figure - I've always just followed. I've never started anything. I've always just followed so I can have something in common with the people I'm with, the people that I want to be with. It works out, and then people drift apart, naturally. And then you go back and see them talking about things that are vaguely alien to you, and you start wondering what exactly was there.

In my case, perhaps, it was a deep desire to be accepted - which I got, in some cases, momentarily, at least until the charades is over. Some of these things, I've learned to take as my own. Others, they've become battle scars of sorts. The things you can't live without now, for lack of a better term, but are fully aware that it's part of a time you do not want to be part of anymore.

I've been with so many crowds, seen so many interests, that looking back, I don't even know what I really am anymore. I changed too many times to get in. Turns out it wasn't all worth it, of course. Because right now, I'm still alone, and I don't have a crowd to call my own.

Unless, of course, I was the one who started all these crowds, and I was the one who moved away because they changed without me.

These things make me afraid of making new friends.

And your responses...

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