Strangers Forever
On grieving the loss of friendship
I have one major, major problem that has really been collateral as a result of living all over the country: I know too many damn people.
Let me rephrase. It’s a major problem in the eyes of some others. Not for me.
I know people everywhere, from Bangor to Beverly Hills. Did you get invited to 30 weddings over the span of a year and a half? Did you drag your ass all over the country to make 26 of them?
Apologies to the four plus the one bachelor party I was unable to attend, by the way. The checks should have arrived sometime in the middle of 2023.
Leaving my suburban New Jersey bubble and moving to unfamiliar communities outside of my comfort zone was the most critical piece of my character development over the last decade, encountering walks of life I would have never experienced in my bubble. So many of the figures I’ve crossed paths with come and go, leaving their own impressions that shape my existence with each day moving forward.
But some leave an impact far more significant.
If you know me, and I truly mean know me, you are well aware of my greatest character flaw: I am empathetic to a fault.
No, that’s not some boisterous claim of self-righteousness. It’s actually something that has been near-fatal to the preservation of my mental health. I’m a perpetual fan of the underdog, I punch up with the people who are punched down on, and I overexert myself to emotional exhaustion when someone I care about is experiencing a hurdle. My call log is an eclectic ever-changing collection of people from all walks of life, and I’d go to war for pretty much all of them.
I genuinely think it is embedded in some of my jadedness toward the world around me, recognizing in full (especially lately) that more than half of the individuals with whom we share this rock truly do not give a shit about the people around them. My efforts aren’t enough to change that, but if I can do right by those in my orbit, I do believe that is how I’ll be remembered when my days on said rock are done.
At least, that’s what you hope.
I acknowledge my anxious attachment style has done me harm with many of those figures who have come into my life and then exited. I am aware that no matter what my intentions are, He Who Is Imposter can often overshadow my personal fortitude and damage relationships. Yet I will ultimately rest easy knowing in my heart I have always tried to do right by those who I care about, even if that was not reflected in the final result.
When I began developing my mentorship program, I created a communication technique that I try and impart to my mentees. I call it the “Mr. Rogers Method,” a nod to Fred Rogers’ ability to take a group of people and communicate in a way that made it appear as if he was speaking to only one of them. As such, each person feels that individual resonance, and bonds of trust are formed. This style, I believe, allows one to establish a strong foundation for even casual friendships, let alone ones that grow.
At my core, I am simply fascinated with the human experience. What do we find in people we gravitate to that makes us even want to be their friend in the first place? How do we grow to confide our souls within one another without worry of judgment or betrayal? Even so, we crave those connections.
I say that as someone who very much is often the one putting every bit of himself into sustaining relationships. Did I mentor you? Let’s be friends for years to come. Did we chat on Instagram a few times back in 2019? Great, I’ll touch base with you in a few weeks, I need new headshots after all.
Hell, I’ve sustained at least casual friendships with many of the people I’ve dated over the years! Do you know why? Because it’s pretty cool to still give a shit about people who have meant something to you. And guess what? It really is their loss if they let me out of their lives! I have a goddamn HAIRRY Award.
But you can read about that type of loss in, like, 84 percent of my other pieces. I digress.
You see, it’s fun to have people all over the globe who you can connect with instantly, and if I can make even the smallest of impacts on their lives, that means something to me.
When you give so much of yourself to others though, you leave open the very real possibility of having those naked parts of your chemical makeup exposed. That can even come from your inner circle.
While I do pride myself in the relationships I’ve sustained, there is a core group of people who know all of me. It is a small, select club, mostly dating back well over 15 years. In this group, efforts are always reciprocated, hurdles are always cleared, and I know these friends would be thick as thieves with me to the end.
Or so I thought, at least.
As years pass, our life circumstances change. We move. Family members pass. Relationships start. Relationships end. The consistency of normalcy is maintained through those you surround yourself with.
Trust and respect are never supposed to be breached, especially when there is no catalyst.
It is an agonizing feeling to see your connection with someone dissipate seemingly out of nowhere, especially when you love them for who they have been throughout the entire time you’ve known them. A sudden change in disposition throws disillusion to spin throughout your cranium, growing like a mass that becomes more cancerous by the moment.
There are two paths when this begins to happen: one that goes forward, and another that is a dead end. It is in my fiber to always trudge towards the open road, always extending an arm to accompany someone along it. But when one chooses to travel the other, it is a form of grief that is unique in its sense of loss.
Our friends are reflections of us. Unlike our family, we choose the people we want to have relationships with. When someone takes that choice out of your hand, it’s akin to Newton’s Law of Motion: it is an equal and opposite reaction to you. Sometimes you find out why. Other times, you don’t.
This form of heartbreak hits totally differently. Gone is someone you thought would be in your wedding one day, someone you believed you’d see raise a family firsthand, someone you’d share dangerously niche memes with for decades to come.
And there you are, the fool who punched up to fight alongside this person for so long, left without answers, rhyme, or reason as to why you’re now alone.
Fuck, man. It sucks. It really sucks.
It would be easy to just try and turn it off with everyone else at that point. Even as that happens though, I still maintain my curiosity in the world and those who occupy it around me. I challenge myself to remain inquisitive about the people who cycle in and out each day. And above all else, I remind myself of those who do come through for me, and love me for my list of 1,004 reasons not to.
You have those people in your life too. When they come along, and show you the love you’re deserving of, don’t let them go. Respect them. Reward their loyalty, and express appreciation for them being your cheerleader.
Because, like I have, you’re going to meet a lot of people in your life. It sure seems advantageous to have them in it before they become strangers forever.
The hardest part? Accepting maybe it’s for the better when they choose to leave.