People are the strangest things
This world has ever seen.
Complicated to a fault,
More than any other living being.
Think of relationships,
The way people act towards each other,
Whether platonic or romantic,
Still so complicated.

I often wonder,
What makes a friend?
So I’ve compiled a list of attributes,
I’d consider favorable.
In an attempt,
To answer this question.

A friend should be someone who cares for you,
Someone who is mutually interested in you,
Who you are, and what you do,
And long to see you grow.
A friend should understand you,
And not judge, but be compassionate.
Is that too much to ask?
A friend should love you unconditionally,
Not necessarily romantically,
For just being you.

A friend shouldn’t make you feel ignored,
Alone, or insignificant.
Friendships shouldn’t tear at the slightest push of buttons,
Of events that occurred,
Years and years ago.
Friends shouldn’t say crude things that they know aren’t true,
To demean, or hurt,
The ones they’re supposed to care about.
A friend shouldn’t use or abuse,
Physically or emotionally,
That’s for enemies.

I watch people socialize,
Mainly the ones who are considered “popular” in my eyes.
I wonder,
What do they have that I’m missing?
I see them laugh, and smile with their friends,
And wonder,
Do they care about me like this?
Is there something wrong with me?
Did I do something wrong?
How did things change so quickly?
Was it something I didn’t see?

Watching the ship burn to the waters.
The captain doesn't run away.
The ones that made me laugh,
The ones I missed over summer vacation.
Did they ever think of me?
The ones I never fitted in with,
Things never clicked.
I always felt awkward and out of place.
Am I just overthinking?
Did all this time mean anything at all?
Was it a waste,
Was it a loss?
Did we ever form a connection,
Or was it just superstition?

My mother told me that throughout high school,
She didn’t really have any friends at all.
I don’t know how she made it,
If it was me,
I know I wouldn’t.
I would feel too alone.
Though looking at it,
Perhaps I’m in the same boat.

I remember a friend I had back in first grade.
The thing that makes him so memorable to me,
Is the fact that he would lie to my face,
So effortlessly,
And I partly believed,
Thank goodness he left by second grade.

If you’ve read “My Former Friend,”
You know about a relationship,
I relished when it ended.
It wasn’t a friendship,
But a parasitic relationship.
So much discontentment,
So much resentment.
The past is the past so it’s time to move past.
If there’s anything I learned of value,
Is that some people abuse for their own benefit,
A lesson I’d have to learn at some point.

I sense a sense of strain amongst my friends.
Things feel more awkward than they ever have before.
Two and a half more years to go.
Would I change some things, if I could do it all again?
Yes.
Could things be worse than what I’m currently experiencing?
Yes.
Does that make it any easier?
No.

It’s hard watching a good thing come to an end,
Especially when it was a large fraction of your childhood.
But naivete is gone,
I’ll see it like it is,
Whether I like it or not,
It’s a sinking ship.
I’ll enjoy what time I have left,
And ride it out till the end.

A friend shouldn’t run away,
And leave you behind,
Without a warning,
Or something to clear your mind.
Just tell me that we’re done,
That you’ve moved on,
So I can move on.

Here we are,
2025.
Feels weird to say,
But it’s here to stay.
Looking at the bigger picture,
I see,
That I don’t think a single person gets me.
Perhaps, I set my expectations too high,
Perhaps frivolous tomfoolery is the norm.
I’m more of the “get things done” kind of guy.
Perhaps, I’m too hard to get to know,
Perhaps, the journey’s not worth the reward.
All people see is a character that’s mundane,
Yet hidden in the pages,
Is a creative brain,
That, to most people,
Won’t see the light of day.
I think there’s one,
Maybe two,
That’s it.
The rest I’m not sure about,
They have their friends, who occupy their time.
Yet, it’s not that I don’t want to know them,
It’s that I’m scared,
To be rejected,
In the gutter.
So, like my mother did,
All those years ago,
I’ll sit back,
And watch the world turn,
On my own.
And wonder,
If out there,
Somewhere,
There’s people who’ll care for me,
The way I wish they would.
According to probability,
It’s nearly a statistical certainty.

A friend should make you feel heard,
And loved.
So that you don’t have to write a long poem,
About what you long for.