#about friendship

[lhoandbehold]

Is anyone else like, ah my friends... they are out there. I love them, I think about them, I remember them. I would like to keep our interactions fresh and frequent. Oh shit it has been 3 years since our last call.

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Ooof.

It's been about a year now, and I'm still not entirely over my devastating friend breakup.

Like, I guess I AM over it in the sense that I'm pretty much fine. I did my grieving (Read: cried my eyes out on the living room rug, downed a bottle of too expensive wine at a sushibar while sorting through the devastation with Husband and QPP, listened to Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball and wallowed in self pity until I got tired of myself, wrote a lot of cruel/angry/miserable/desperate tumblr posts that didn't make it out of my drafts, read The Friendship by Connie Palmen and Take Care Of Yourself by Sophie Calle, found a modicum of peace with the fact that I really felt more humiliated than sad, you know.) and I mostly no longer think about it. It's not really a thing in my life anymore.

....

But holy fuck. I'm NOT over it in the sense that accidentally coming across anything they made is still a recipe for Instant Physical Panic. Like, heart racing, nausea, the works.

It's just...

I can't fucking believe they wrecked me so bad that accidentally seeing their art or their fics or even their bloody username makes my body respond with such instantaneous threat response, almost 9 months later still.

There they are, completely and utterly unaffected, and there am I, having hypertension over seeing their art reblogged on somebody else's blog. It's like the humiliation just won't end.

And whatever can I do about it? Nothing, that's what.

Except this.

One of the reasons I originally gave them the ick was my "bad habit" of publicly processing all my feelings; guess I'm not escaping that allegation. Still. I'm lancing the boils of this grief, one by one. Better out in the open than festering inside.

[spn-ish]

[thebroken--soul]

I miss talking with someone new. I miss having that click with someone. I miss being excited to talk to them. I miss learning to know them. I miss late conversations at 1am with someone. I miss flirting. I miss waking up to a long message.

[kathastrophen]

"There is a hole in my heart (and it's shaped like you)" - 2024

[goobtacular]

Things will never go back to normal. They can't. And... Somehow, that still feels okay.

[sincericida]

https://www.tumblr.com/sincericida/756725523979386880/i-just-saw-that-the-reddit-popculture-chat-i?source=share

Okay, bear with me here.

Has it occurred to y'all that he's a grown 40-year-old man that can do as he pleases?

Yes.

And since it you occurred that there is no age to be mentally/ emotionally vulnerable? Has it ever occurred to you that when we see a friend/ loved one making bad decisions against their own life, is it legal and moral to alert them of the consequences? Has it ever occurred to you that when we like someone very much, we don’t like to watch any nasty motherfuckers pull that person down?

[redfieldfeer]

Time for second chances

Some time ago, I ran my first original D&D campaign. I couldn't get to the end of it, both for personal reasons and problems at the table... And that always bothered me. I looked at all that material I still had, at that world that had amazing stories waiting to be told and... I also blamed myself a lot. For not being a stronger person, nor a more professional DM. Time passed, I focused on my writing and also on myself. Creativity is back, as is the tabletop RPG. I went back to play, until a good friend, remaining player at that table told me "You need to come back, you're still the best DM I've ever had" and that stayed and took root in me. I found myself digging through the old campaign files, rewriting the lore and promising myself it was only for "later"... And "later" became now. I'm back, as a DM, as a friend and, above all, as a storyteller. Sometimes we roll a nat 1 that haunts us for a long time... But if we don't try again, nat 20 never comes, right?

[pharaohgargamel]

Стадии и уровни одиночества:

Stages and levels of loneliness:

1. Есть друзья и питомцы, но всё равно грустно будто никому нет дела до вас.

You have friends and pets, but it's still sad, like everyone doesn't pay attention to you and ignores you

---

2. Друзей нет, но есть домашние животные. Грустный.

No friends but have pets. Sad.

---

3. Есть домашнее животное. Нет друзей. Грустный. Ты плачешь и желаешь, чтобы появились друзья.

Have a pet. No friends. Sad. You cry and wish for friends to appear.

---

4. Нет домашнего животного. Нет друзей. Очень грустный. Ты плачешь и очень желаешь друзей.

No pet. No friends. Very sad. You cry and really wish for friends.

---

5. Нет домашнего животного. Нет друзей. У тебя есть любимая плюшевая игрушка, и ты представляешь, что она живая, но тогда становится еще грустнее. У вас есть воображаемые друзья.

No pet. No friends. You have your favorite plush toy and imagine that it is alive, but then it becomes even sadder. you have imaginary friends.

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Congratulations

Cw: personal, about friendships and self-sense. Creative writing, stream of consciousness.

….

Late at night, lying awake wondering if my friends hate me: the quintessential mental illness experience, but also…

Realising I need a space where I can be mean and resentful and *bad* because a part of me is like that. And I don’t want it to be private, and yet I can’t function if I constantly swing between the catharsis of saying what I think in the moment and wondering if the wrong person may have seen that at the wrong time and now I’m about to be ghosted or excommunicated from a friendship.

And yes, I know friends who will block or ghost you for being a complex human being are bad friends. But… and I hate myself for saying this because it sounds like the reasoning of a woman choosing to stay with a guy who beats her -sometimes, those very people give you something no one else does. A kind of focused attention, a kind of engagement with your creative work and interests, a kind of encouragement and shared humor, that’s just… one in a million. Impossibly rare. And suddenly you do find yourself saying it’s worth it. All the self you carve down and smother, all the nights lying awake wondering if you did something wrong -just to keep having *that*. You’d cut yourself down to the bone to keep having that.

Congratulate yourself, Richard Siken said to the person who asked what to do if you’re always the one who loves more.

Congratulate myself -But I don’t know how not to become the collateral damage of others’ inability to love me as I am.

Sometimes, love is carving yourself into pieces for someone. Saying, here’s the sweetest part, I saved it for you.

But there is something about putting your own bleeding self out in the trash and offering only the best to someone who sees you as nothing but a little nibble on the side, ready to be discarded at the slightest inconvenience. To someone who’d rather reject the meal than risk choking on even one sharp bit of you. To someone who eats you like a store-bought steak, trying to forget where the meat came from.

It is not something I feel warrants congrats.

[serenadefiii]

yang disebut sebagai persahabatan itu,

tidak melulu harus bertemu setiap waktu, tidak selalu harus saling berkirim chat setiap saat, tidak mesti berada pada jarak yang amat dekat.

dan sahabat adalah dia yang memelukmu atas sedihmu, tersenyum atas bahagiamu, pengingat untuk khilafmu, juga terkadang lirih mendoakan kebaikan tanpa sepengetahuanmu.

[thebroken--soul]

I announce officially that I’m used now to friendship disappointments.

[been-a-girl]

reparations

I hurt you.

You got upset.

I said I'm sorry.

But it wasn't enough.

Let me try again:

My deepest, sincerest, most life-changing apologies,

that my body did not create you,

my womb did not form your cells

into the shape they are today.

I never soothed your nightmares

or held you when you wept.

Your cuts and bruises never felt my lips,

praises of bravery tainted by my microphone.

I'm sorry that you're older than me

and this world didn't allow me to be

your terrible mother.

I guess that means I owe you.

But I failed at that as well.

Never sucked your dick.

Or stroked your fragile hair.

Last time you came over

you wouldn't even share my bed.

With a little more patience,

I would have given you everything.

You held my heart already,

my body was sure to follow.

Now I see your name in passing

and when the rage dies down.

I still think sorry

that I didn't kiss you

when I had the chance.

[sincericida]

oh and before you answer that it’s not a hate ask, they both seem really nice, especially the second one, It’s more of a “how did that become friends with that?” reaction

It happens.

(context)

[redfieldfeer]

Is "creative soulmates" an applicable term?

I believe so, even more so when I refer to a player at my RPG table who is also someone I write fanfics with. Well, as you can see, this is another post about the magic of the tabletop RPG. Two weeks ago, I mastered yet another origination session, and this time it was for my remaining player from the old table. I must remember that it was she who convinced me to go back to GMing through a recap of everything that had happened the other time and, above all, with new ideas for her character. We changed a lot, starting with a new homebrew race that encompasses creatures with animal characteristics (our inspiration came from the fauns of RWBY) and with that, also came a new goddess... But, that's my thing as DM. Let's talk about her as a player. She always surprises me with how demanding she is with her characters, I always thought her character at the other table was amazing, but she felt inconsistent in some ways and so I helped her. We worked together on establishing new attributes, including multiclassing her previous class (she's coming with a spellcaster that I already broke in the source session) and that tied in perfectly with the new BG she wrote. Before, a deserting soldier who constantly fled from the oppressive empire that forced her to enlist, even if it meant leaving someone important behind. Now, a soldier victim of a war for no reason, who needs to fight PTSD while wanting to return home and find who she left behind... But years have passed, new domains have been established and things have happened without her knowing. The current character is much denser than the previous one, which makes her connection with the Raven Queen extremely important (after all, she has issues with destiny and, mainly, with another domain of the goddess). I tried to encompass all of this in her session, starting with a dream in which I worked on the concepts of the "thread of fate" and also the Japanese legend of the "red thread". We went through years and years of lore, covered with images that didn't say much, with symbolisms that made sense to her as a player... We talked about heavy topics, such as psychological aggression, violence (torture), trauma, grief... And all this taking place in a dream, traveling along a black and white forest road that began with fire and ended at the river. We closed the cycle of that character's life while another one began... And she woke up to the sound of the voice of an NPC that we had already seen in previous sessions. Her character, a soldier, allowed herself to be taken care of her whole life and decided, on her own, that she needed to act. Of course there are MANY things in this character's BG that I haven't even addressed, but I'm really happy to have the player back with me. And here comes what I put in the title of this text: the connection I have with her is only explained through the brevity of soulmates (Platonic, I must say). She is incredible, as is her character and, most importantly, the NPC we both fell in love with. A cutscene-only NPC, unnamed, looking at the moon through a telescope. A high elf enchanted by the stars who tries to reverse time to find those who left her behind... One day, I left my player and friend behind, but she defied fate and insisted on bringing me back. All I can say is thank you: thank you for letting me roll the dice with you again.

[gamequeenanya]

One more thing about the love post.

It's interesting when fair-weather friends show their true colours by unfriending you because they think you've found love.

Because regardless if it was a miscommunication... Even if I did find love with someone who is your exact type (beauty is subjective), a real friend would be happy for you, and celebrate your success. Not envious enough to unfriend you.

At least this type of thing shows you who your real friends are.