When friendship is no more

I was suppose to wrap up some work stuff this evening. But other things came up, that seemed more important.

I think everyone experience it at some point… When you start questioning some of your friendships and relations. So I started thinking about friends… true friends. There are friends you know will be there for you, no matter what. Supporting you, encouraging you and perhaps above else have the guts to tell you the truth when you’ve been a complete idiot. In my current state of friend affairs I think there is only one person I have such a relationship with. There are a couple of more friends, in fact some distant ones which I still feel closely connected to. But that’s about it… Out of 313 friends on facebook, about 3-4 I consider good friends and one a true friend.

Then there are other friendships, which have been lingering there, on the fringes of life. You see at the rate of my recent evolution, I don’t feel those friendships evolved with me. It’s not their fault. It’s me in fact. I should have been honest….as matters changed so had the friendships, or perhaps more precisely they were left behind, struggeling for survival in the shadow of my previous life.

There’s another thing you may or may not know. I was very different back then. Although a girl with a lot of thoughts, ideas and ambitions, my life, at least on the surface was incredibly shallow.  I worried greatly what other people thought of me, and did my utmost to outshine others.  It was like I was happily unhappy. Taken from an urban soap full of intrigue and glitz and glamour. Only thing is my life was not so glamorous, but hey a  a few Cosmopolitans, a pair of high heels and a bar down town Amsterdam was the perfect formula for temporary make-belief. But yes, it was all very temporary and all very unhappy. Sometimes even sleazy. Flirting was exercised for the purpose of self-appreciation and love became a quest of self-worthiness.

I now wonder how many people are still living those lives. The happily unhappy ones. The ones with their perfectly manicured facades in a turn-of-the-century town house in some big city. The ones with all the money, the designer bags, the Manolo shoes, a martini glass in one hand and a fag in the other. Tres chic!

Our lives to the outside world are nothing but illusions. We see what we want to see, and we communicate what we want others to believe. True. Don’t get me wrong, I love glamour and I love to show the little bit of glamour in my life to the outside world. But this is of course not all. In fact my life is so far from perfect. And yet it’s those imperfections that I find strangely comforting. And above else, in what I have come recently to discover, is the value for honesty. That I cannot go one day by pretending. Even if it means I have no job tomorrow, no money, no friends, I cannot pretend anymore….EVER. That’s also why I write the way I do…like there is no tomorrow, without the care for how others will perceive it. If I have no job, no money, no friends…..who cares. I still have my dignity.

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