it’s a matter of my resolve. it’s a matter of admiration. it’s a matter of dedication.

(quote from: zato - i love the world and everything in it - by ferry)

(warning: this post mentions suicide very briefly and generally talks about periods where i had terrible mental health issues.)

a few years ago, i worked a rather unique summer job where i lived in a room with five other girls. one of them was our boss, so she was frequently out early and back late. the other four girls and i grew pretty close, and for the semester that followed, i even would’ve considered one of them to be my best friend. we didn’t have a lot of common interests, but we kept in touch, and she even came out to see the first show i did in uni. then the months dragged on, and i sank into a horrible depression. by january, i stopped texting anyone except my brother, and very occasionally, when i woke up to missed calls, my mom. i didn’t go anywhere unless people were counting on me. gradually i started skipping out on those too.

naturally, my friend worried about me. she sent me multiple texts, which i ignored with a paradoxical mix of guilt and apathy. the timeline in my memory is hazy, and i’m too much of a coward to reread our messages, but it definitely took a couple weeks for me to reply. i was terrified she’d be mad, and maybe she was, but her replies, in all caps, suggested that she was just relieved to know i was still alive. we chatted a bit, and i let her know that i honestly wasn’t doing too hot, although i was careful to not let on exactly how terrible i felt. she was very understanding, of course. but the root problem hadn’t been addressed, and when march midterms came, the accompanying depression dragged me under so viciously that, at one point, my brother worried i’d killed myself. if i wasn’t even texting my brother at times, obviously my other relationships were getting radio silence.

meanwhile, my friend was still texting, but definitely less. she kept texting for maybe the first week after i stopped responding, then went silent until maybe early april. while i was avoiding her and everyone else, she let me know that she’d be in my city, and asked if i wanted to meet up. i missed both of these texts, only reading them after she’d left, and in hindsight, i think this was the beginning of the end. the pre-tipping point. the pebble arcing through the air before it hit the pond and sent ripples through our friendship. i apologized, and once again, she was very understanding, although i’ve never been good at reading tone and especially not through text. when i look back, i can perhaps detect a slight flicker of impatience, which may just be my overactive mind, but if that’s actually how she felt, i wouldn’t blame her in the slightest. of course it’s frustrating to finally be able to meet someone you consider a good friend, and then have those hopes dashed because your friend can’t do something as simple as answer a text message.

so what happened after i apologized? you’re probably thinking i learned my lesson. you’d be sorely mistaken because this happened AGAIN during the summer! no contact for weeks, until i text her, apologize once again, and ask if she’d like to come to a show i’m doing the next day (she lived an hour away and didn’t have a license). when she replied, she assured me (as always) that it was okay, and not to worry about it. i took this at face value, but when i look back, i see the veiled frustration in the lack of exclamation points and all caps. foolishly, i thought she would be just as relieved to know i was still alive as the first time. but as the boy who cried wolf learned (and apparently every other normal person), when you disrespect people enough times, they stop giving a shit.

now, i wouldn’t say we were quite at not-giving-a-shit level yet. i’d say the pebble was hovering above the water; if someone had quick reflexes, they could grab it before it sank, although not without a few ripples. she said she’d try to make it to the show but no guarantees, and on the actual day, she unfortunately couldn’t come. i told her it was fine, and then she sent some replies whose contents i still don’t know. that’s right, i did it AGAIN!! at this point, it’s been 66 weeks and i haven’t read those messages. the pebble dropped those last few centimetres and splashed into our pond.

there were no immediate ripples, at least, not ones i could feel. there was no blowout fight; we didn’t block each other. but much like the breeze from a butterfly’s wings, those small gusts of air built into the tornado that awaited me when i opened instagram last week. three posts in a row, from the aforementioned friend, one of the girls i roomed with who i’d similarly ghosted (although with way less stringing along), and a third girl i’d roomed with but never contacted after. let’s call them A (friend), B (ghosted), and C (never contacted): this leaves the last girl, D, who i’d also never contacted. C and D attend a college in the city where my uni is, which i now know hosts a pretty sweet winter ball. how do i know this? you might be putting it together. those three posts were of A, B, C, and D all dressed up at the winter ball.

i’m not necessarily upset about it. after all, how i could i be? i made this bed, sowed this field, and hired these musicians. it only follows that i must now lie in that bed, reap that harvest, and face the music. to be upset would imply they did something wrong, rather than me. i was the one who didn’t cherish those friendships enough. i was the one who took their love for granted. i was the one who didn’t try hard enough in all respects. how can i blame them for not bothering with my disrespect? i can curl into my shell and avoid all contact, as so many others do in periods of poor mental health. but i cannot then expect my friendships to hold the same strength as when we were actively connecting. regardless of mental issues, it’s taxing to put effort into a relationship knowing you’re not getting that effort back.

so, at the end of all this, you must be thinking, “surely leoneedreamer has finally, FINALLY learned their lesson,” to which i can only say… you’re mistaken once again! recently, i ghosted a friend who EXPLICITLY told me she gets anxious when i don’t respond or react. obviously, the later i waited, the more i was convinced she was upset (especially because this is, again, not the first time it’s happened with her). oh, she was definitely upset; nay, she hated my guts! but when i finally bit the bullet and texted her, she seemed to be not mad at all. of course, i’m famously not great at interpreting tone, but regardless of how she feels, i will try my best to make the lesson stick this time. i never manage to act like it or say it to her, but i do cherish her.

in all honesty, i should’ve learned my lesson years and years ago, because this is most definitely not the first time i’ve ghosted friends. there’s my middle school friends, a friend i used to write stories with, my senior year crush, the girl whose hometown i visited just to see her, and my friends from my summer job last year. some of these people i tried harder with, but in the end our relationships all met the same fate. they send a text i can’t think of a reply to, i panic and put it off, and the more time passes the more i become convinced they hate me and would actually rather not hear from me at all. this is always how it goes.

i can hear you saying, “why not just send the damn text!! anything is better than nothing!!!” which is very true, but that’s not how it works up here in my brain. what my brain tells me when i’m drafting a reply is “this text has to be either the funniest or most insightful text you’ve ever sent or your friend will get bored of you and drop you like a HOT POTATO!! and don’t even think of opening that message or your friend will get anxious about you leaving them on read!!” it sure looks absurd when written down, but it’s hard to break thought patterns forged in the hellfires of freshman year in a high school where you don’t know anyone. the worst part is that, like i described above, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. i spend hours, then days, thinking of the perfect response, and in that time, we drift further and further apart, until the thread of our relationship snaps.

so where does this leave me, friendship-wise? well, the ones i’ve managed to keep are those who don’t have any reason to text me regularly. once every few months, we plan a hangout during a school break, and it honestly feels like no time has passed at all. i’ve started to think this is the only option for someone like me. if i’m being honest though, i want more, and always have. that’s why i tried to keep texting in the first place, because i want to share the minutiae of my life - the silly things that delight or upset me - with someone other than my brother. and this brings me back to the title.

“it’s a matter of my resolve. it’s a matter of admiration. it’s a matter of dedication.”

this is not a shill post for zato so all i’ll say is that [zato - i love the world and everything in it] is a free visual novel, and while i have some minor gripes with the story, it made me feel deeply in a way i haven’t felt playing any other game. this quote, as well as asya’s worldview and perspective on gratitude, particularly resonated with me. asya says this quote when devising a plan to send her message of love to the world, and through her quest of gratitude, i can see the ways i can be a better friend.

“i want to do better” - this feeling stems from my admiration. even though i’m usually terrible at conveying it, i admire different aspects of all of my friends, even those i have lost. i want to cherish those i still have, and those i have yet to make. this brings us to resolve and dedication, which are quite similar. to me, resolve is the desire and will to do something, while dedication is the continuous act of following through on that desire. my admiration fuels my resolve, as well as me putting my feelings in writing for god-knows-who to see. as for dedication, just saying, “i’m going to do better,” has never pushed me to keep going for long. there has to be a concrete method if i hope to have any success, so i’m deciding that my messages have to be answered within a week of being received (but preferably as soon as i think of a good response). as well, every sunday, i’ll reply to any messages i’ve been putting off.

the whole system may seem a little over-the-top, but for some reason, i’m more likely to stick to a resolution when it’s written down. and if i can extend this system from dishes and laundry to friendships, and maybe eventually to the other things i hate about myself, i can build myself into who i want to be.