the delusionaire

I think maybe I never had any friends. Real friends. The kind you tell your secrets to and feel confident you won't be betrayed. There are people out there who won't judge you for for leaving your husband. Or for getting so drunk you cry some nights listening to Bob Dylan records. There are people who will come back to you over and over after leaving you or will just never leave you at all. People you never wonder about. Does she say I'm boring when I'm not around?
I don't know any of those people. I think I never have.
My friendships are like dandelion fluff. They hold solid to a stem and then with the gust of a wind scatter. Some cling to each other in their path and others just drift on their own. But they're mostly gone now and I feel like a patchy-bald weed miles away from anyone who knows or cares enough to make an effort.
Phone calls reveal that what we once had in common is gone and we're just going through the motions trying to find something else to talk about. And then someone stops answering. Stops returning messages. And I'm the one reaching out for something that only seemed like it happened. Brokenhearted in a way. And it makes me feel stupid.
I care too much about this. I only started thinking about it because I'm going back to work Saturday and I realized that practically my entire group of friends will be there. And maybe I'll have to keep in mind how far away I feel when I start falling in love with all of them again.
Just to be safe.