A Small Dandelion

I am trying to maintain a friend.

For a very long time I kept a glass wall between me and other people. The glass wall was made up of words like, “They wouldn’t understand me,” “They don’t care,” “I don’t care,” “They’re annoying,” “I’m too much for them,” “They’re too much for me,” “They’re boring.”

I still keep this wall up.

But a while ago I met someone who feels like a spot of sun. She’s very warm and bubbly. We’re both bipolar, so we both get it.

I feel my mask come up when I’m around her. Laughing and smiling until my face feels uncomfortable. Sounding excited about something I’m not that stoked on. Exaggerating emotions. Trying to give her the reaction that I think she wants.

I’m so aware of this it’s painful.

Last night we went to a bipolar support group together. I’d been looking for one for a while, inactively — and she invited me, without me telling her about this.

We went. In the car, I played jazz to keep calm. I felt nervous around her, as if I might do something that would make her realise that I really really really wanted to be friends with her, or that I really really really don’t want to be friends with her.

She said the jazz was nice.

The thing is, I keep thinking, this is the last time I’m going to do ____, and then I’ll slowly wane away from this friendship.

I guess I’m just scared of someone needing me, and me needing someone.

Because, all my friendships these past few years have not been out of need. It was never any kind of support system; only just hanging out. When I was in the trenches, I had no one I could call. I only hung out with my best friend every now and then, and I only told him about my worst days after they happened. I kept to myself, choosing to implode instead of explode.

But now I’ve found a friend who I feel safe with. So safe, I feel scared. Like finally getting a warm blanket after freezing for so long, and being worried it’s going to be wrenched away from me at any time.

That is to say, I think I might throw the blanket off.

A few months ago, I asked ChatGPT when I’m going to find my next best friend. I was very lonely at the time, having just moved to Los Angeles, and having a lot of acquaintance-friends but not any soul-friends.

ChatGPT estimated, 3-6 months.

And I know I shouldn't ask AI things like that, so I totally disregarded it, but now, looking back, maybe it was onto something. Or, a string of spaghetti it threw on the wall actually stuck.

I feel confused. When she says “I love you,” it feels like too much for me to handle. My heart feels overwhelmed. It’s like giving mashed potatoes and gravy to a starving person. Too much fat. Too much nourishment. Too much richness.

The other day I was walking across a lawn and I saw a few dandelions.

I felt silly doing this, like a little girl, but somehow the thought made me proud. I bent down, picked the dandelion by the stem, and blew. The fluffy white seeds dispersed in the wind.

As I watched them go, I made a wish.

“Please let me do my four days’ worth of dishes when I get home!”

The dishes had been sitting in my sink for a while, and I was scared of attracting fruit flies.

When I went home, surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), I found it in myself to do my dishes.

That is to say, I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep pushing people away because it’s easier to be alone. I can’t keep being afraid of getting close to people, being afraid of emotional engagement, being afraid of getting attached to people. I can’t keep telling myself about all the little reasons I shouldn’t have someone in my life. I can’t keep being alone. Humans need other humans in their lives. And as for me — I, too, need the light.