So you have a friend. Over time you develop a rapport and an affinity and much to your own surprise, you open up and bare your soul. With the soul bared, there’s a nakedness that comes with it that no one else sees but to whom you bare it to. There’s an audacity in it. A strength, a liberty that’s empowered you and you act like your bared soul. The raw you. Say things the way they are. Nothing to mince around. Nothing to be politically correct about. Coz yes, there’s nothing left to hide. You’ve reached a complete state of oblivion, bliss and peace, that really, there is no other way to be.
One day, on questioning the friend tells as well. Among many other niceties, comes the real truth.
Says, the bareness that is shown is the cause of discomfort and hence a guard is up. A firewall to be careful and not to be their own self.
You are labeled “complicated”
That’s when you know that what you thought of being simple was not. That the world around is and that you are indeed “complicated”. To this friend.
So you close the door and go back to being simple. Coz there’s really no choice. The other door’s shut tight, and no amount of knocking, banging, asking, yelling or begging will crack it open. It’s sealed tight. You will never know why. It could be arrogance, it could be carelessness, it could be that priorities have changed. There’s a harsh incisive demeanor.
…and that’s how one stops making friends. Coz, everyone likes simple. Unchallenged. Plain. Easy. No effort necessary to break through. No interest than just to pass through fleeting. Like a co-passenger on the train. Nod, acknowledge and get off at your stop.
Simple and alone. It’s not you, but it can be you. If you try hard, that is. Try hard to not be you, but what everyone sees you as.
Wrenches my gut.
What’s it doing to you, if anything at all?