I’m secretive

“People will make fun of me for the music I like.”

“I’m a disgusting porn addict.  If anyone finds out they’ll know how disgusting I am.”

“If anyone finds out I believe in conspiracies they’ll think I’m crazy.  No one will ever want to talk to me again.”

These are just a few examples of thoughts I’ve had.

I’m afraid of ridicule.

Of rejection.

Of confrontation.

So I hide the things I think people won’t like.

I’m trying do undo that now.

Forcing myself to disclose things I think people won’t like.

Maybe I will lose some friends.  I hope not.

But maybe some friendships will grow stronger.

Maybe I’ll gain some friends, too.

My artist friend

He lived down the hall from me.  Everyone in the dorm had to share a room.  After the first term his roommate left school, so he had the room to himself.

I’d talk to him about the woes of my love life.  He was a good listener and he’s share stories of his own.  Sometimes we’d go for long walks together.  Once we even walked to the next town, six miles away.

It was the end of the school year.  I asked if I could move in with him.  He was reluctant at first.  He enjoyed having a room to himself.

I explained the difficulties I’d been having with my roommate.  He agreed to let me move in.

I broke up with my first serious girlfriend/fiancee.  I called him and told him what happened.  I hadn’t seen him for a few years.  He was going to school an hour and a half away.  He invited me to come visit him the next day.  He spent the day with me.  He introduced me to some of his friends and showed me around campus.  He asked me to consider going to school there.

That was the last time I saw him.

I’ve contacted him several times since then, most recently on Facebook.  It’s not the same.

I miss my friend.

I’m so glad I met him.