I’ve been doing regular mental calisthenics of late trying to clarify some of the big questions that have intrigued me throughout life. Recently burning my synapses is this question: Why does my general outlook and attitude seemingly correlate with the amount of time I spend surrounded by my closest friends?
Now I’m not talking about friends of the Facebook variety. Rather the friends whose presence can have such profound effect on my emotional state are those with whom I’ve spent endless hours in poignant conversation; those with whom I’ve shared intense life-defining experiences; those around whom I’ve let down my social defense and shared something of what comprises me.
It makes some sense to me that that act of sharing me, and receiving something of them in return creates a sort of symbiotic relationship. It is as if a part of me lives (physically? metaphysically?) in them — lying safe, but dormant, until our paths cross again. To me, this would explain that feeling of instability when I’ve been disconnected from friends for too long; perhaps the me in me is wondering where the rest of me went?