We all have acquaintances. A mere handful of them can maybe be considered as friends. As for the rest they are what I refer to as ‘fair-weather’ friends, people who while professing genuine friendship towards you, cannot be relied on to sense that all you really need is a shoulder to cry on and a real hug from time to time, two of the things a life long depressive like myself constantly craves, together with actually sitting down talking to people, face to face.
Apart from a brief eighteen month period back in the middle sixties, I have always lived alone. The fact that my mother and father never showed any recognisable sign of love towards each other or me come to that, probably has a lot to do with it.
Not once while they were alive did I ever see them so much as hold hands. Nor kiss or a hug each other. It was as if being demonstrative towards one another was somehow a crime, something I still fail to understood to this day. Take it from me, when you grow up without love as I have you crave the love and companionship of another human being on a daily basis.
Is it any wonder that as I get older, I write to keep myself from giving up on life itself? Not that I’m brave enough. If you will pardon the bad pun, the dead giveaway for all of you would be if you saw no more daily posts from me, here on my blog.
I’m sorry if this post is a bit disjointed. I really hope I snap out of this mood soon. From past experience I know it normally takes a few weeks before I begin to perk up…