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2005-04-07 - 5:31 p.m.

I seem to suffer from either too many friends or too few.

What is the equilibrium point of friendship, anyway?

Is there ever a time that you look around and say to yourself, "Hey...I've got EXACTLY the right number of friends. One more or one less and I'd be totally frakked, but this...this is shiny, this is golden."?

I mean, either I'm irritable and fried because I'm trying to keep up with everyone and I feel torn apart in too many directions, or I feel lonely and alone.

I suppose there is a hair-fine line in between, which is the time that I'm merely grateful to have time to myself.

I think part of this is dissimilarity. As much as I love, value, need, want my friends, mostly we have very little in common. Music, TV, movies, few places that we overlap at all, and then only lightly. I wish for someone I could share more with, someone whose likes more closely parallel my own.

Someone to talk about writing, and to call about the latest shocking twist on Lost or BSG, someone to sing Deep Red Bells or Reach Up for the Sunrise at the top of their lungs with me.

Was I spoiled by too much Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden? Was I raised with an unrealistic expectation of friendship's composition?

It's not outside the realm of possibility. I am filled with such curiously vulnerable pink places; areas of startling naivete amidst oceans of cynicism. I think of Cats Have No Lord: "I retain a few scruples."

But unlike Glynaldis, I don't retain them for their shock value. I take no satisfaction from having those innocences betrayed. So little of me is innocent anymore; I won't relinquish what's left willingly. One should never surrender something pure without a fight.

So I guess given the choices, I'll suffer my disappointments and hope for different.

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