Good friendships: $3943098779 a barrel


Oh no. Suddenly, I lost my rosy-coloured glasses. Suddenly, I’m feeling slightly low. For big stretches of the day, I feel miserable. And no, I do not feel sad about losing the iPod. Some part of me knew I would lose one of my prized possessions soon.

There’s just this feeling I have. Of not being ‘connected’ to the people whom I love. Starting with my mom, all my relationships are failing.

I still find it hard to believe that there are people who admire my writing. Fine, yes, I do have low self-esteem. I need constant compliments; they’re my fuel. If someone does not respond with as much passion, I feel slighted. I retreat. I bite them.

And then of course I am in agreement with one of Woody Allen’s sayings, or is it one of Groucho Marx’s? You know which one that is. And yesterday another potential member sent me an email, asking how I am and that we should meet for coffee again. Weird. I bitch about not having enough quality friends, that Cape Town is full of cliques and that people are shallow. Well, am I not shallow for being reluctant to be friends with her? Poor Jenny. I’ll try to remember about our coffee date. And I’ll try not to screw this possible friendship up.


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