Friendship... one of my remaining lessons in life. Most people figure out this complex situation at any early age in childhood... my first friend as a child was a puppy puppet that threatened to slit my throat at night while I slept. If anyone reading this post has visited previously, perhaps they can understand this comment easier. Settle down, Browser, you'll get no air-time today! Moving on. So how exactly does friendship work... are there certain rules or occasions that are mandatory? I have tried various "experiments", most of which failed by epic proportions. One problem I have noticed is my audience... I tend to reach out in friendship to women, rather then men... this is due to my illness and nature. As I have stated before, a male schizophrenic's mind works more like the mind of a healthy woman... chemical secretions, thought processes and interests. I am a man... there is the first problem. When a man approaches a woman in friendship, they tend to get the wrong idea... after all, 95% of men that approach women are looking for a sexual encounter. Truth be told, that type of encounter couldn't be further from my mind... standing around people is murderous and being touched by someone is frightening and a violent assault to my mind. Add in the fact that I don't understand positive emotions or love, on any level, and this confirms my previous statement. The other huge mistake is my tongue... I recently wrote about how I should really stop talking to people as a general rule. It is extremely difficult to describe emotions in which you are unfamiliar. Statements like, "I care for you" and "I enjoy our time together" become twisted and perverse... it appears to come across as some declaration of love and possession. That never ends well... none of the scenarios have. The other main problem would be interest... shouldn't friends be interested in getting to know eachother? This appears to be very one-sided. I make huge leaps in attempting to get to know the other person by writing to them and asking them questions about their life or day... showing an interest. If I am lucky enough to get a response, the communication highway breaks down until I write again... months could go by with nothing. It appears to be pointless... this continual experiment is extinguishing the little remaining hope I have inside.
I want a friend, a real friend, that isn't interested in harming or exploiting me and my illness. I want a friend, that wants to know the real me without judgment or reservations. Someone that will ask how my day is going or about my life without having to be prodded or asked first... someone that would write to me just because they wanted to do so. A friend... like the storybooks claim- honest, open, sincere, caring, supportive. Perhaps I am asking too much... maybe I don't understand the meaning of friendship. Is it me... what does it really mean to have a friendship?
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