I’ve always had a hard time making and hanging onto friends. I’m not sure why. I’m (perhaps stupidly) the kind of person who will bend over backward for those I care about — and often for people I barely know. I love pretty much everyone, unless you’re a douchebag. Then I won’t waste my time.

I consider myself a warm, honest, open, and friendly person, albeit a little (lot) shy. I’m sure when I finally get to meet some of my favorite bloggy people, I will most likely spend the first hour or two quietly taking in everything before I say much of anything. During outings, people say I’m quiet but that I’m “something.”

I can be witty. I like to do stuff like rent random movies, spend a night in, go out for karaoke, watch cheesy shows like Instant Star and enjoy it, and I can keep secrets. I can also tell my own secrets, if we’re close enough.

I think I’m a pretty good friend, if only I had more than like two.

There’s Jillian, whom I worked with at FYE “back in the day.” We became fast friends. We could be best friends. We just don’t hang out enough. She recently moved to New York and then moved back, which helped with the hanging out. We have a lot of fun when we’re together. I’ve never had a reason not to like her. She loves Stephen King and drools over Julian McMahon. There are always good times to be had when Jillian and I get together. She gets me, and I can be completely myself around her. (Read: totally goofy and insane.)

Then there are my friends from high school, the ones I hung out with a lot the first year or so after graduation. Now? We barely speak. There’s Joe, whom I went to dinner with a month or so ago. There’s John, who I haven’t seen in over a year (but we still talk on Facebook occasionally). These two stick out the most, only because I developed friendships with them beyond just hanging out and laughing. The problem with them is that we’re all freaking busy. They’re both in university, living their own lives. So much time has gone by that we’ve become old acquaintances. Ghosts who still appreciate each other but have too much to do to make the time to get together.

Then there’s Nikki. Again with the busy. She goes to Southern, and while I went there we saw a lot more of each other. Again, we could be best friends, but for some reason it doesn’t go all the way. We have lots of common interests, but live different lives. I can talk to Nikki about ANYTHING, and she never judges me.

Michael, Lauren (my sister), and my Aunt Rikki are the closest people I have. They aren’t friends in the sense that they aren’t related to me or madly in love with me (because of voodoo), though. And Mike? Is not a girl.

I had a best friend, once. I thought I could tell this person anything, could trust her completely. Over and over, she demonstrated that no, she could not be trusted. I kept giving her chance after chance, and that’s probably where I went wrong. I’m a sucker, because she was my only truly close friend and most likely knew that no matter what she did, I would always forgive her.

And yet, in the aftermath of the biggest deception she has ever pulled on me, I still find myself missing her. I have been dreaming about her. (And not in a dirty way, so you guys can all stop the hawt girlsex fantasies now.) Sometimes, I admittedly even pull up her Facebook to see her statuses to make sure she is okay. And why? I don’t know. Because I truly, truly love her, even after she has hurt me time and again.

Even after all of the bullshit, I still want to call her up, tell her I miss her, and get together for a rented movie. Is it because of the history? Is it because we went through the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows at one time together? I don’t even feel this way about my ex-boyfriend, who I thought was my first love back when I dated him. (I know now that Michael is that first, true love.) I shared a lot with that asshole, and even though I occasionally wonder how he is doing (even though he is a big, fat, wet douchebag), it doesn’t go much beyond that. I definitely don’t dream about him, and he definitely doesn’t occupy my thoughts all day!

A few weeks ago, I told this girl (my old best friend) that I really, truly love her and her kids and would do anything for them. Part of me feels guilty, because that anything doesn’t include being walked all over, talked about behind my back, and having deep, personal things about me shared without my knowledge or consent. I was so angry when I first discovered her treachery, that I couldn’t even think about it without shaking. Mainly I was angry because she would most certainly not want the same thing done to her. Only three people on this Earth knew before she went flapping her mouth, and I only found out that she had told someone because, hello, I found it on her blog. (So not only was she telling people she and I knew, but it was also publicly all over the fucking internet. BEA-UTIFUL.)

Getting pissed all over again.

AND I still miss her.

Am I a masochist or what?

I think part of the reason I kept going back to her was because, honestly, she was my only girl friend. She was the only person I have ever been that close to. We shared so much in the six or more years we’ve been friends that it feels like I’ve lost a limb. And yet, with everything else in my world slipping through my fingers, I can’t allow anyone to abuse me. I can’t allow her to continue to treat me like nothing while I do everything for her without a second thought.

And believe me, I have tried explaining to her how I feel over and over again. Even when I told her that I don’t want to talk to her anymore because of what she did, she still didn’t get it. She said something to the effect of, “There’s more to the story but you wouldn’t want to hear it.” So, there’s more to the story involving her telling people something I wouldn’t want them to know? Something SHE wouldn’t want them to know? I don’t care what the “story” is — she told something about me that she knew I didn’t want anyone to know. Hell, SHE didn’t even want to talk about it ever again! So, hypocrisy is the name of the game here, and since I caught her out, she still had to try and justify it. There IS no justification; had I done the same to her, she would never forgive me. I know exactly what happened and why she told who she told, and that makes it even more sickening.

BUT.

There’s no point in me wasting my time. I am sad because I have lost a friend. It would be nice to have this friendship now, when I most need someone who understands and knows me completely. It would be nice to be able to sit outside with her, drinking cold beer and chainsmoking, while I tell her how I’m feeling, how scared I am, how much I don’t want to lose my grandfather. It would be nice to spend part of the holidays with her and her kids, watch them open their gifts and the way their eyes sparkle.

The kids. Don’t even bring me to the kids. I feel so guilty that I have stopped talking to her, because I also love those kids. But, as horrible as it sounds, I can’t be there for them, doing everything for them, while she walks all over me. I honestly can’t even stand to be around her. It would make me sick to my stomach to look in the face of someone I once trusted, someone who told a personal secret just to impress a guy.

Because that’s what it comes down to — impressing a guy who did horrible things to her over and over. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

So, at the same time I grieve the loss of my good health, and the suffering of and impending loss of my grandfather, I grieve the loss of a sisterhood.

A friend.