There is one particular phrase that comes to my mind when I think about friendship.
The most important thing about friendship is not how many friends you have, but how good your relations are.
The most important thing about friendship is not how many friends you have, but how good your relations are.
We all have acquaintances and people we consider as friends. We enjoy their company and we spend good times with them, which is a healthy thing, for most of us. I won't be focusing on that kind of friendship here. Instead, I would like to center this essay on the unconditional type of friendship, the one where you can actually call someone a 'true friend'.
In my opinion, a true friend is a mix of happiness and comfort.
A true friend is one of the best human confidants one could ever have in life. A true friend listens with an attentive ear, sets any kind of judgement aside and instead, arms themselves with empathy, understanding and compassion. The bond is so strong that it's actually possible to understand each other with just a glance. There's no shame, discomfort or worries in between, aside from the stories and anecdotes related to one another.
It's a relationship where joy gets doubled and sorrows divided—Cicero or Swedish proverb? wherever this comes from, I agree with it. It's not always sweet pink velvet cupcakes and glittery butterflies. Sure, joy gets doubled, how nice. But each party should—must—be willing to accept a part of the 'negative vibe' that stops the other one from moving forward.
That kind of friend will not be afraid of making you face the truth—regardless of how unpleasant it may be, and they will rub it in your face over and over again if a reality check is necessary—mandatory, imperative, crucial, vital—for you. They will constantly remind you that it's for your own good and, secretly, you don't mind being dragged all the way down, as long as they're coming with you.
One time, I took a week off to visit a friend—a true friend—, somewhere in the center of France. We stayed together in the same flat, slept in the same bed and did pretty much everything together. I remember that day when we were supposed to wake up early to go study at the library and ended up binge watching some stupid reality television show on the couch, with ice cream and junk food as our only sources of energy for the day.
"I'm so done with us," she would say, while munching on a bowl of chips.
I took my eyes off the laptop screen and stared at her. I've always admired her for finding the right words at the right time. She knows when to speak and when to shut it. I understood that by 'us', she didn't mean our friendship, but the situations we would get ourselves into, the countless times we've promised ourselves to act like responsible adults and constantly procrastinate instead. She was done with us spending our free time on pointless stuff and suddenly panicking before exams, thinking that binge studying would make things any better.
I know that I will always be a child at heart, and so will she—regardless of how hard she tries to hide it. That's probably why I'm still clinging to a part of Neverland.
Somehow—given our personalities—we feared that we would grow tired and bored, not enjoying each other's company anymore. But, to our surprise, it wasn't the case. At all. Of course, we felt bad at first, because we didn't get to do anything productive. But it was fun, genuinely fun. That's when I realized it was actually possible for me to be stuck with the same person almost 24/7 and not want to blow my brains out.
There has to be some vibe, a constant, positive vibe, to achieve something like that—well, for me, at least. A connection is necessary, something that makes me think 'I don't know if I would've gotten this far if they didn't show up at some point in my life' when I look at them.
Inspite of that, I'd say that the most important rule would be that there are no rules. Each person is different—hence the word 'individual'—and we don't have to fit in a certain box. I chose to surround myself with the people whom I feel comfortable with. People who won't judge me or make me feel awkward for being myself. In my—small—experience with life, I found out that people come and go, the right ones stay. Forgive the cliché, but for some reason, it depicts best what I had in my messy mind.
Photo: Eden
Location: "L'armoire à cuillères" — Clermont-Ferrand (France)
"I'm so done with us," she would say, while munching on a bowl of chips.
I took my eyes off the laptop screen and stared at her. I've always admired her for finding the right words at the right time. She knows when to speak and when to shut it. I understood that by 'us', she didn't mean our friendship, but the situations we would get ourselves into, the countless times we've promised ourselves to act like responsible adults and constantly procrastinate instead. She was done with us spending our free time on pointless stuff and suddenly panicking before exams, thinking that binge studying would make things any better.
I know that I will always be a child at heart, and so will she—regardless of how hard she tries to hide it. That's probably why I'm still clinging to a part of Neverland.
Somehow—given our personalities—we feared that we would grow tired and bored, not enjoying each other's company anymore. But, to our surprise, it wasn't the case. At all. Of course, we felt bad at first, because we didn't get to do anything productive. But it was fun, genuinely fun. That's when I realized it was actually possible for me to be stuck with the same person almost 24/7 and not want to blow my brains out.
There has to be some vibe, a constant, positive vibe, to achieve something like that—well, for me, at least. A connection is necessary, something that makes me think 'I don't know if I would've gotten this far if they didn't show up at some point in my life' when I look at them.
Inspite of that, I'd say that the most important rule would be that there are no rules. Each person is different—hence the word 'individual'—and we don't have to fit in a certain box. I chose to surround myself with the people whom I feel comfortable with. People who won't judge me or make me feel awkward for being myself. In my—small—experience with life, I found out that people come and go, the right ones stay. Forgive the cliché, but for some reason, it depicts best what I had in my messy mind.
Photo: Eden
Location: "L'armoire à cuillères" — Clermont-Ferrand (France)
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