Being a Friend

Started — July 2014
Age: 16
Abandoned: August 2014

I’m a friend. I like to be around people; I like to mess about and have a laugh. But for the most part, I like to talk. If I’m talking to people then I know I’m not alone for that period of time. Loneliness is one of my biggest fears, and it’s something I’ve had to deal with for a few years. Eight, to be more specific.

I’m the person that will always be available to talk to someone. Either just general day to day chatter or because a problem of some sort. I talk to people when they need it most. All a person needs when they’re down is either to be left to their own devices or to have someone to talk to. Let me know if I’m that someone and, I promise, you’ll be fine. I would know, it’s something I’ve learned in more recent years.

I’m a person that seemingly anyone can talk to when they want. I feel like I can’t abandon people when all my life I’ve been abandoned by everyone but my parents and my teachers. Even then, I didn’t talk to my elders because to me, telling meant weakness. I didn’t want to admit weakness to any of my peers so I kept it hidden. Once people found out that I had told someone, there was this fear of things becoming worse. Because of that, I kept it to myself until it got too much.

I’m told I’m “easy” to have conversations with and somehow I make people comfortable talking to them? I don’t try to do that, it’s just how I am. If I’m talking to someone in person, then I feel awkward and restricted with what I can say. That is, unless I’m already friends with them. I don’t talk much, I laugh a lot at anything anyone says; I’m quiet and I don’t have much to say. Yet somehow that makes me easy to talk to? It makes people comfortable talking to me? All I do is let the other person speak. If they want to say something, I’ll let them say something. I’m not much of a conversationalist when we first meet. However, if I have something to say, something to put across; if I have a view or opinion, then heck, I’ll say it. It’s how some friendships become friendships. I’m a bit more confident speaking to people through text, though. I can say what I want and erase anything that I find isn’t appropriate to say. Or, if I think of anything else or something better, I can say that instead before I send the message. I can have conversations that I probably wouldn’t have in person. Conversations that make me realise who my real friends are. Conversations that make me aware of who care about me most. Ones that help me realise who I should keep making an effort for and who I should still bother with. 
I’ve never had proper friends until two years ago; I’m 16 years old. You’d think, having been to primary school, you’d have someone to call a best friend, or even just a friend. I didn’t have that. I was bullied all the way through primary school and up until year 8.

No one wanted to be friends with me in primary school. I wasn’t pretty and the girls seemed to want me to feel bad about myself. I was clever and I worked hard to get to where I was. I also didn’t feel like I had to “fit in” with anyone. There wasn’t a specific group of girls that were on my case; it was anyone who wanted to cause me trouble. I mean, these girls were young. I was young and it’s not like I was pushed to the ground day after day and called names all the time, no. I was called the names sometimes; girls talked about me behind my back and made up rumours.

I mean, guess I had “friends”. Friends who thought that what was going on was stupid and a waste of time. But there weren’t many people in my year group so everyone was friends with each other. I had to be careful about what I said, even though I knew who I could trust and who I couldn’t.

Even though I remember moments of being bullied, I’ve come to realise that the bullies themselves wouldn’t have a clue if you told them a few years down the line. To them, what happened was nothing. The pain that they caused me was never something that crossed their minds. What happened has affected me as a person; changed who I am. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like if I did ever have a decent childhood like some of the rest of the children around me. Everything would be different, I would be different. I might have ended up being the complete opposite of what I am now. I’m proud of who I am. Proud of what I’ve become. Proud that I got through the pain and the suffering. Proud that I’m now in a happier position to be what I want to be and do what I want to do.

I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Kaydn-Blair Pinson. I quite like my name, it’s unusual. Kaydn means fighter, I think that fits with what I had to go through when growing up. I looked up Pinson a while ago for a school project and it’s a name for someone who made pincers or forceps. I also found that it could’ve been a nickname for a “bright and cheerful person”. People say I’m always a “bright and cheerful person”. If only they knew what I was like behind closed doors.

Some sort of description of me would be short body length, long hair length. Blue eyes, brunette; my hair is wavy and goes all the way down my back. I don’t ever want short hair. That would be alien like to me. I’ve been so used to long hair for as long as I can remember.

I want to do something to do with psychology when I’m older. I think I’d be good at that. I like to understand people. I like to help people. I don’t judge anyone when it comes to confessing to things they’ve done. I know general society frowns upon people who sleep around, frowns upon people who do drugs, people who drink excessive amounts. I’m not a person that frowns upon anyone who is like that. I don’t like to rule people out based on what they show to the world. There’s sometimes a lot more to a person than what they show. Plus, what’s happened has happened, what more can you do about it? I understand getting annoyed at your child or a close friend if you ever found out that they were doing drugs or something similar. But if you’re judging someone who you only ever pass in school hallways? That’s something that I don’t understand if I’m being honest.

I like to analyse things. I like to look deeper into a situation and figure out every possible side of that one story. I like to understand why people do what they do and understand how the people in their lives as well as everyone around them could be affected. Having a passion for English helps, I think. I only recently found that English Literature was what I really enjoy doing and it’s another thing I’m good at. Most of the essays I did were the analysis of a book, a character or an extract. Giving views and opinions on a topic of said book and deciphering what the author meant is what I like to do the most in school.

I’ve always said that the only person that can get you out of depression is yourself. I still believe that, but not as much as I used to. I have depression. I have it because of everything I went through, but also because I was lonely. I may be a shy person, but I’ve never let that get in the way of making friends.

I always hoped that at some point, maybe a friend would come into my life and stay there for a long time. I always hoped that the friends I had in school would still be friends long after we left school. I now know that thought might never become a reality, even though I still pray that every day that the people I say are my closest friends will stay close after school ends. I think that’s another one of my biggest fears.

I’ve never had anyone to go for a day out with. I’ve never had anyone to talk to when I needed them, never had anyone to stay by my side through thick and thin. I’m still not sure if I do, but that’s only because I put too much trust into everyone I become friends with. I think I have the right friend until the friendship dies and it’s all over. I’m one of those people. I become close with someone, I put trust into that person and then everything goes wrong at some point. I may be aware of that now, but it’s still a habit I haven’t managed to get rid of.

Continued…
Rediscovered — August 2016
Age: 18

I’ll keep this short and sweet.

I have realised a lot in the two years between the former and the latter parts of whatever you would call this. I’ve changed a whole lot, just like every teenager my age.

I changed my mind about the profession I want to go into. I want to be a writer of sorts. Maybe a journalist? But if anyone asks, I want to be a teacher.
I love writing with all my heart. And I appreciate other people’s pieces in whatever form they may come.

I still want to reach out to people and help them on a psychological level as well, however. It’s a very important thing to me. So what do I want to do when I’m older? I can’t give you a set answer at the moment.

I have major trust issues now. They’re the worst they’ve ever been, I’d say. But on the plus side, I’ve managed to do things for myself. I’ve found ways to reach for happiness when I’m alone as well. I don’t need to depend on other people anymore, but it’d be nice if my current friends stayed. I’ve had enough of people getting up and leaving whenever they damn well please, but I know how to deal with it now. You can leave for all I care, I’d just rather you didn’t. I’ll know who either doesn’t want to be part of my life or who just doesn’t care about being part of it, I’ve figured it out.

And once I realise, you won’t be hearing from me again. I’ll let you go as quick as it takes you to blink.

I understand that this section is very to the point and not so nice in a way but that’s just the harsh reality of life. I don’t care anymore about what people think of me. You do you and I’ll do me, simple as.

I still am a nice person, don’t get me wrong, but I won’t sugarcoat anything when it comes to the topic of friendship. I won’t lie to make anyone feel comfortable about such a thing either. I’m not exactly “proud” of it but that’s just how it is. I’d say that’s what 11 years of constant crap does to you. (I know previously said 8 years, it was 11. I was in-denial.)

You battle through it, get over it, adapt and make sure you look after those around you.

I’m also still a shy individual and highly wary of other people. I still adore analysing things but who knows if I’m any good at it, I sure as heck don’t.

In other words, my personality is still the same, but my attitude isn’t. I’ll leave it at that.

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