Why are we so afraid of friendship?

Language is a fascinating subject.  So many mysteries, so many angles, so much to question and so much to understand.  It’s been said that language is what most clearly defines us as a species, this bit of evolutionary prowess that allows us to pass ideas among ourselves.  According to Frantz Fanon, “mastery of language affords remarkable power.”  One can’t help but wonder, though, whether you’d agree with Mr. Fanon’s definition of said mastery.  I would argue that success is subjective; your intent may differ from mine even while sharing the exact same words in the exact same context.

Words give us the ability to relate, connect, express, build, understand, tear apart, debate, grow… perhaps even love and hate.  This is what makes us who and what we are.

If the great dividend of language is the ability to share ideas, its fatal flaw is our inability to agree upon which ideas were, in fact, shared.  It can just as easily isolate as it can connect.

Let me clarify: just because you can define a word doesn’t mean that you can properly convey its meaning.  I remember a time, not all that long ago, when “friend” had nothing to do with clicking an accept button on a web site.  Perhaps that’s why I find it so difficult to make friends; I have plenty of acquaintances.  Alright, fine… it’d be awkward if it were “People I Know From Somewhere or Met Once or Who Know Someone I Know or Who I Thought Were Kind of Cute From Their Profile Picture.”

As shy as I was growing up, it was always the defining moments of friendships that I remembered best and treasured most.  They may not have been deep, meaningful, intellectual exchanges, but there was always an interaction followed by an understanding: we are more than we were a moment ago, and should celebrate with an awkward smile.

It was so easy in grade school; you sent me a note with two choices and I placed a check mark in the box next to “Friends.”  After that, we hung out at recess and discussed the merits and drawbacks of phy-ed.  Now, I’m not so confident; those who believe in friendship often expect you to pass a certain set of very subjective, very subtle tests.  There’s no curve; one wrong answer and you’re out for good.  No hints; no cheating!  Choose your words very, very carefully.  Perhaps the stakes are too high for a multiple choice question.

That, of course, begs the question: accept or decline?

Friendship needs no words; it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness.

–Dag Hammarskjold

This is beginning to make sense, now!  Wait, we have another problem.  If friendship is deliverance and needs no words, why is it so fragile and elusive?  Oh, yes:  fear.

How much uncertainty and disappointment are you willing to accept in return for an offer of deliverance–or at least shared anguish?  Be honest with yourself when you answer.  At what point do you ch0ose solitude to avoid risking even further isolation?  There is a line drawn in the sand, and for most, that line was crossed long before anyone in your life today had so much as a chance.

What of those of us who insist on making that leap in spite of lessons learned?  Gluttons for punishment, perhaps.  What becomes of us when all is said and done, looking back at those comfortable acquaintance-dwellers behind us and at the looming drop ahead, an immense canyon below?

Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream, exhale, release life’s rapture. Everything is blooming. Everything is flying. Everything is screaming, choking on its screams.

–Nabokov

I couldn’t have said it better myself.