Thinky

I want to write more. I'm just never sure where to start. I have one thought, and then it jumbles into a million, all judged on the merit of how interesting they might be. Honestly, not that interesting. But maybe there are others out there with minds full and they can take a breather with my crazy for a while.

I'm not a good liar. This means I have to own every emotion. For a while I tried to just be honest all the time. Feelings were hurt, friendships were tested. I abhore being fake. Then I set my own comfort level between truth and others emotions. Are they being stupid, probably yes, will I tell them, probably yes. I never condone stupidity.

It took a long time for me to feel ok about talking about a friend in any context. I still fear being two faced in a high school, cliquey, immature bitch kinda way. But fake is a part of life. With aquaintances, certain coworkers, tellers, peripheral people, I'm not going to invest in building a strong friendship. I have made choices, in the friends that I keep, to surround myself with people who are not catty, gossipy or hurtful in friendship. I want any friend of mine to be able to hear me talking about them, and have it be positive whether I know they are listening or not. Conversations will inevitably involve stories from my life and friends are a part of my life. Fun times, arguments, and concerns are reality. Confiding emotion is necessary. The tone dictates the intent, and respect is the bottom line.

The slow building layers of a friendship can be tricky. But if you dont put yourself out there, trust never fosters. And you end up a hermit.