While growing up, I moved from school to school, often being the only Asian kid in my class (if not the whole place), and me being an only child to begin with, I knew the importance, I daresay survival imperative, of fitting in, belonging, and making friends.
Sometimes I made friends by being the teacher’s pet, or the artistic one, or by cracking jokes. I had fun with schoolmates, but as time went by, people grew up and life moved on. The friendships that seemed so infinite yielded to the responsibilities of adulthood.
I wasn’t always a good friend. I wasn’t always that nice of a person. I did some mean things, was self-absorbed, and troubled. I had talent and energy, but didn’t know how to channel it. I even attempted suicide. All this time — and I wasn’t completely conscious of this, but knew it deep down — I never forgave myself for my trespasses, never felt I really deserved friends; good ones, great ones, true ones.
Today, I believe there are true friends out there waiting for me, and the way I’ll find them is to start by being a true friend to myself.
image credit: morguefile.com