I
have fallen sick to the common cold of friendship.
It's sniffly and a pain, and I have to carry tissues
around with me. More often than not it drives new people
away. But there are those who will still talk to you, just
turn away a bit — keep their distance because as kind
as they are, they're still a bit put off. Best case
scenario: your friends push you into bed and bring you soup
and hot choclate, and sooner or later you've recovered,
and you're more immune than someone who might not have
suffered from it at all. But there's also the chance that
they will leave for good,
or — worst
case scenario —
you'll give to them as well.
I have fallen ill to a virus, strong and pervasive and
resistant. It has many names. There's the scientific
'low self-esteem', although I believe
they call it 'self-hate' in some
countries —
Australia, probably. There's the most-used phrase
'sorry I'm so this way', the
street-wise 'I'm not worth having around', the
coded 'I am terrible and you could do better', and
the one everyone knows but doesn't like to stay when with
company: w h y w o u l d y o u
w a n t t o b e m y f r i e n d
a t a l l ?
I have fallen sick to the common cold of friendship, and let
me tell you —
the flu s u c k
s .