Sometimes I hate talking to my friends. Nowadays, it's happening oftener. I want to tell them I love them and how important they are to me. But I'm afraid that when they ask me how I'm doing I won't find it in me to give them a breezy answer. Everyone has problems. Apparently, even a mediocre time is too big an ask in the current state of the global economy. People are wiped — emotionally, physically, socially, financially. I'd rather not be another reminder of how everyone seems to be Going Through It right now. I just want some part of my life to remain untouched by the meanness of my situation. That part could be my friends. If they don't know how miserable I am, they could entertain the gentle deception that I'm somewhat okay. Maybe just a little too busy with a schedule that's out of sync with theirs, but still, somewhat okay. No news is good news.
But that means I don't get to talk to my friends. I don't get to tell them how I love them and the friendship we share. I don't get to remind them how monumentally crucial they are to my wellbeing, load-bearing and marvelous. That I want to keep reaching out but I feel more strongly the need to raise them above the tide that's trying to drown me.