Lament of the Mind

Feelings ruin friendships.

(Say it like a mantra.)

Feelings ruin friendships.

I have to keep telling myself this. I have to repeat it, or else I forget it.

When I forget, the past repeats itself.

When I forget, I lose.

I cannot afford to lose.

Friends are something I have in short supply. Friends are something I desperately need.

Human connection is something I have to have to survive. If I don’t maintain it, I won’t live.

(Say it again.)

Feelings ruin friendships.

I’ve lost before. One after another after another. All because I let myself get attached. All because I care too much.

I have to break myself of this. I have to, for my own sake, if not theirs.

I so easily let myself care. My heart is soft. I enjoy helping. I enjoy being part of another’s life. I can’t help it. Maybe something’s broken at my core.

(Don’t forget the broken ones.)

Oh yes. The broken ones. Not…broken. But hurt. Everyone has pain. Everyone expresses their hurts. Everyone has levels of hurt that they share.

I attach myself to that pain, like a leech. I want to heal it. I NEED to heal it. I use it. I feed off the positive energy of helping. Life. I give life, so I can see more of it.

But I take it too far.

I want so badly to become part of the life that I help heal, that I latch my emotions onto theirs. Their success becomes my success. Their failure becomes mine.

Vicarious. The word, means pseduo-literally “to become another”.

I live vicariously. I live through those I help.

But I always push for more…and that’s where I break.

You see, I know my place. My place in life is not to be part. My place is to watch, to observe. I am a Seer. I cannot ever become part of what I watch, no matter what I want.

(Things go wrong.)

Oh yes, things always go wrong when I step out of my role. I go beyond the healing, beyond the friendship. I try to become closer. I admit my feelings. I express my interest.

(Again.)

Feelings ruin friendships.

My interest inevitably destroys it. The trust built by the healing is seen as misgiven, an ulterior motive. It is seen as dishonesty. It weakens the bonds that have been built so carefully.

(“I wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship.”)

Yes, how I’ve heard that. Those less sensitive call it “the Friendzone”. I know better. No, it is my fault. My fault for allowing myself to become attached over time, to see strings where there is only air.

The truth is, we were friends. I always presented that way. And I always wished for it to be that way.

(Not the heart, though.)

The heart…my heart, doesn’t agree. It attaches itself. Anything that grows close to me, it jumps out for. Decades of loneliness come pouring out. It sees the slimmest chance that all that may end, and it strikes. It wishes so much for an end that it leaps like a tiger at the first sign of attachment, of reciprocated caring.

Like that tiger, it inevitably hurts what it’s leaping at.

And that’s where the danger lies. The friendship shatters. It becomes awkward, then evasive. I back away. I give space. The space grows. The awkwardness grows. Until, finally, there is nothing.

(Nothing but pain, you mean.)

Oh, yes. The pain of loss. Of losing another one, to my stupid emotions.

(So, you control it.)

Yes. Control.

It must be kept in check.

It must never be allowed to make the mistakes again.

(One more time, like you mean it.)

Feelings. Ruin. Friendships.