Why does such a seemling simple skill like making friends come so hard to me? Maybe it wouldn't make itself out in the form of a big deal if it didn't come so easily to those around me. I've come across many ^potential friends in the misadventures of my poor excuse for a life. yet, for some unknown reason, they break my trust and heart as well. I have yet to find one t.r.u.e friend. My quest for external aloneness was not conceived only because of those around being so deceptive. I see friends who are true to each other. The only flaw is that these same _{f.r.i.e.n.d.s} are not true to me. The | shield | around my �--wounded--> mentality has been worn down to be just transparent enough for them to know how to hurt me. And they use it to their advantage. I have never been popular, but I appear in many conversations where the beautiful people discuss the many flaws of mine which come across as quite humourous. I shouldn't be c+o+m+p+l+a+i+n+i+n+g. I should be thanking whatever unnatural force out there which caused my life to gain enough substance to induce laughter. If you are an honest and understanding person, will you please be my f.r.i.e.n.d? Perhaps till the end...

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